


Drifting Through Doorways

by Rainywriter



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Architect!Jensen, Big Bang, Issues!Jared, M/M, NOT a death!fic, Past Character Death, RPS - Freeform, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainywriter/pseuds/Rainywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year ago, Jared lost his husband in an act of senseless violence. Stricken with grief, Jared has withdrawn from society and become reclusive, his only human interaction coming from his foster brother Chad, his florist friend Misha, and the occasional grocery store cashier – that is, when Chad can convince him to leave his apartment. If that wasn’t bad enough, now he’s being haunted by the ghost of his deceased husband, and Misha is the only one who seems to believe him – even if Misha's theories and superstitions make him a little, well, eccentric.</p><p>Jensen, on the other hand, is finally free of his own unhealthy relationship. Too bad being one half of the couple known as Jen-Jen drove him completely bat-shit crazy. And he is, if the disembodied voice that only he can hear and strange dreams are any indication. After all, Jensen is ninety-nine percent sure he’s not a ghost (despite what the voice claims), and he’s never been married to anyone named Jared, either. </p><p>This is a story about unlikely connections, second chances at love, and giving in and letting yourself be just a little bit crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to say that I do NOT consider this a death fic. There is a lot of angst at the beginning, but it does get better, I promise! :D
> 
>  
> 
> There is now a Spanish translation available here: http://z13.invisionfree.com/Supernatural_Foro/index.php?s=2f092b3d7b040a6fcc3030ca726e4367&showtopic=4982&view=getnewpost

 Say not in grief: "He is no more", but live in thankfulness that he was.

-Hebrew Proverb

 

**I.**  
 _Sunday, October 20th_

There is a moment between waking and sleeping when a person realizes, beyond any doubt, that they have in fact been asleep; that everything that came before was nothing but a dream. Jared felt the unwelcome spark of that moment, and retreated from it. For Jared, waking up was the worst part of each day.

Jared’s eyes fluttered open and he stretched. Instinctively his arm lifted as he sought out the familiar warmth of his bed-mate. He found nothing but cool morning air and the cold linen of an otherwise empty bed. The grief hit then, as usual – a hot stab of anxiety in his belly that shot physical pain through his limbs and made his fingers tingle. His breath caught in his chest and his eyes stung as his memories kicked in, brutal and painful.

One year and it still hurt like a fresh, gaping wound; like it happened only yesterday. That year had been simultaneously the shortest and longest year in Jared’s life. There was a hole in his world and Jared didn’t know if it would ever close or scar over.

Jared knew he wasn’t dealing with it, and that he needed to move on. Everyone said so, if not in words than in sad, sympathetic looks. Jared just wasn’t sure _how_ to deal with it, or if he really even wanted to. Somehow, it seemed fitting that he should hide himself away in the apartment they’d made a home of – fitting that he should waste away.

With a sigh, he sat up, swung his legs over the bed and covered his face with his hands. He breathed the way his foster mother showed him when she’d realized Jared was starting to have panic attacks. _Three counts in; six counts out_. He scrubbed his hands over his face, pressing firmly against his closed eyes and exhaled slowly. The cold sense of panic lessened, and he was ready to face the day. Well, as ready as he’d ever be. He glanced at the alarm clock that sat on his bedside table. It showed the time to be a little after 10:00 AM, which was later than Jared usually slept. He shrugged. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be.

He stood and started removing his pajamas, letting them lay on the floor and not bothering to put them in the hamper. It was easier not to bother, and besides, Chad had been over at least twice a week since the funeral to help clean up, make sure Jared was eating, bathing and well, still breathing. Jared knew he was taking advantage but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He wondered how long Chad would keep it up; how long before Chad washed his hands of Jared and let him rot away in his apartment. Jared wouldn’t blame Chad if and when he got tired of putting up with Jared’s crap, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Chad was pretty much his only social interaction anymore.

When it first happened, there had been more than just Chad checking up on him – his foster mother for one, a handful of friends as well, all hovering about like a swarm of bees. Time passed and eventually the visits tapered off when things started getting uncomfortable. No one wanted to be around the guy who couldn’t get over the death of his husband enough to even return to work. Jared used all of his bereavement leave, then all of his vacation and finally all of the unpaid leave his job was willing to give him. When he’d received the written ultimatum in the mail – return to work on such and such date or forfeit your job – Jared tried to go in to work. He really had. He’d gotten up promptly when the alarm went off at 6:30 AM, showered, shaved and dressed.

He’d made it as far as the car before the panic set in. Twenty minutes later Jared stumbled back into the apartment and called his job. Apologizing profusely, he quit and then spent the rest of the day moping in bed, hating himself and feeling pathetic. _Thank God for the insurance money_ , Jared thought on a regular basis, _or I’d be on the street_.

Freshly showered and shaved, Jared threw on jeans and a T-shirt. He was shaving on a semi-weekly basis now, hoping it would show, at least on a superficial level, that he was making some progress in dealing with all this.

He left his bedroom and made his way to the kitchen. He reached up to grab a box of cereal off of the top of the refrigerator when his elbow hit a stack of precariously stacked dishes. An avalanche ensued; dinner plates, cups and silverware all going over the edge like a pack of lemmings. Jared closed his eyes tightly until the cacophony ceased, and then only opened one eye to assess the damage. Amazingly, only one coffee mug had broken . He frowned at the mess, as if by scowling at it the cup would reconstitute itself and float back up to the counter. He picked up the dishes and silverware that were still in one piece and dumped them into his sink. Sighing, he grabbed his broom and dustpan and started cleaning up the mess.

At that moment his best friend, Chad, burst into the apartment. Chad did everything at max volume. So, of course, his arrival went something like this:

“Jared! Jared? Where are you man?” The first thing he did was fling the living room curtains open wide, allowing bright sunshine to flood the apartment. When he turned, he saw Jared stooped over in the kitchen, sweeping bits of ceramic into his dustpan with a whisk broom. “Holy shit, you’re cleaning? By yourself?” Jared looked up and scrunched up his face at the blinding sunlight that lit Chad up like some kind of angel. It was almost amusing. Chad continued.

“And you shaved! Good to see you again, Jared. Thought you’d disappeared forever into the underbrush,” here Chad made beard stroking motions as if to further his point. Jared rolled his eyes.

“I should have left the mess for you,” Jared said quietly, ignoring Chad’s dramatics. “But I don’t wanna step on it barefoot later. You know I would.” He finished his task and dumped the contents of the dustpan into the garbage can, dismayed when he realized that he hadn’t put a fresh bag in there since he last took the trash out. Well, the last time Chad took the trash out, but that wasn’t the point. He clicked the little broom into the dust pan and put in the cabinet under the sink.

“Aw, that’s so thoughtful of you,” Chad said sarcastically. He tilted the trash can towards himself and snorted when he realized, like Jared did, that there was no bag in there.

“Really Jared? You couldn’t bring yourself to put a bag in here?” If Chad wasn’t careful, he was going to start sounding like his mother. “Oh, gross. There’s banana peels in here! You get to scoop that crap out. I’m not doing it.”

Jared didn’t respond, just gave Chad a thin-lipped look and handed him a fresh garbage bag from under the sink. Chad sighed and began gingerly picking things out of the trash can, dropping them into the bag. Jared smiled, shook his head and went to help.

“Here, hold the bag open and I’ll dump the trash in,” he said. “See? I help.”

“You’re lucky I put up with your ass. You really ought to be paying me for maid service,” Chad retorted.

“You love me,” Jared said blandly. Chad scoffed, but it was true. Chad had been Jared’s best friend since the day Jared arrived at the Murray’s house as a scared, angry and aggressive sixteen year old who’d been shipped from foster home to foster home to home since he was eight years old. _Never good enough to keep_ , Jared had thought back then. _Never cute or smart enough to be adopted_.

Chad had slipped into Jared’s new room even before Jared had unpacked his duffel bag and promised that this was his last stop before he aged out of the system. Jared had been dubious but the Murrays had made good on their promise. Jared had spent his last two dependent years in their care. Despite Chad’s boisterous nature, they’d clicked immediately. Perhaps it was because even though Chad wasn’t a foster kid, he’d been adopted by the Murrays at the age of six, he knew what it was like to be in the system – to be abandoned, given up on, and shipped off to the next place. Or perhaps it was because Chad was a year older and knew how to have fun and not get caught. Either way they’d become inseparable.

Chad had even been supportive when Jared decided to come out as gay. His foster parents had tried to be supportive, God bless them, but as soon as they’d gotten Jared into college they slowly withdrew from his life. They never voiced their disapproval out loud, but Jared could feel it in the air whenever they were around, and there had been that one Thanksgiving dinner when his foster father had looked up at him and said, confused, “I just don’t understand, Jared. You don’t _look_ gay.” Jared had been speechless.

Chad had come to Jared’s rescue then, calling his dad an _idiot_ and trying to explain that you didn’t have to look a certain way to be gay and if he’d like, Chad would make sure Jared wore a tutu and talked with a lisp next time Jared came over for dinner. Jared had butted in and stopped the conversation before it became even more strained, but he’d appreciated Chad’s effort.

After that, Jared mostly only attended family functions on holidays and important occasions, and he’d been a little surprised when his foster parents had come to his wedding. There had been the awkward moment when his foster father wondered aloud if the wedding events were illegal since gay marriage wasn’t legal, but Chad quickly pulled his dad aside and explained symbolism and commitment and assured his father that no one was going to go to jail for attending Jared’s wedding. Jared put those memories aside and turned to Chad.

“You didn’t have to come by today,” he said. “I’m surviving. I’m going to keep surviving.”

“Surviving,” Chad mimicked in a monotone voice. “Yeah, I can see you’re surviving. But man, you gotta start living. Come on, I’m taking you to the zoo.”

“The zoo?” Jared was perplexed. “Why are you taking me to the zoo?”

“Don’t you like the zoo?” Chad asked, his brow furrowing a little. “I thought you liked animals. Besides, they’ve got clouded leopard cubs.”

Jared perked up a little at that, although as always that small, nagging voice in the back of his mind piped up and told him no, he shouldn’t go. He shouldn’t enjoy anything ever again. That it wasn’t fair to the memory of – well, he knew that it was ridiculous, but it was still how he felt. He bit his lip and Chad must have seen his indecisiveness, for in the next moment he put aside all of his brashness and took a step closer.

“Hey, I know it’s hard, alright? I mean, I don’t know what I’d do if my,” his voice trailed off, and Jared knew what he’d been about to say. Everyone trailed off when they talked about death, as if by not directly mentioning it they could somehow lessen the reality of it. Jared ignored him.

“Zoo, right? That sounds nice, actually,” Jared said, trying to force a smile. “Maybe tomorrow. I was thinking of driving up to Dallas today.”

Jared knew he wouldn’t go. It was about a four to five hour drive to Dallas and the thought of sitting in the car that long with nothing but his thoughts and the radio seemed terrifying. Chad didn’t hesitate to call Jared out on it.

“Dude, you are not driving to Dallas today,” he said. “I can take you next Saturday if you want to go, but not today.” Jared frowned.

“I think I should be able to go visit his grave if I want to!” Jared was on the defensive now, letting his anger at life and death paint a big red target on Chad. It wasn’t fair, but he let it happen anyway. Chad put his hands up in placation.

“Hey, Jay, I never said you couldn’t go visit his grave. I just know that –“

“I’m going for a walk,” Jared said icily, walking over to the door and grabbing a hoodie off the coat rack. Chad started to follow but Jared stopped him with a look. “By myself.” He added, ignoring Chad’s hurt look. He slung his hoodie over his arm and left the apartment, leaving Chad behind. Jared knew that Chad would wait a few minutes and follow behind, but Jared was okay with that. He knew Chad only hovered because of Jared’s complete lack of getting over this.

Perhaps it would have been easier if his husband’s parents hadn’t insisted on burying their son in the family plot up in Dallas, so far away. Jared wanted to go visit the grave more often, but he couldn’t – not unless he either moved up there or was willing to drive five hours on a whim. He’d only been up to visit the grave twice in the past year and never to visit his former in-laws. Both times Chad drove him and made a valiant effort at distracting Jared from his thoughts.

Jared hadn’t put the funeral together either – that had been handled by his husband’s parents. In a way it was ironic, the way they had swooped in and taken over after they’d practically disowned their son for being gay and marrying Jared in the first place. Jared figured that in their own way they were trying to atone for their bigotry and the funeral had been grand; a lot of money thrown around that they wouldn’t have even considered spending on their son merely a week before. What really got to Jared about it though was the way he couldn’t afford to send his in-laws packing unless he waited for the life insurance money to come in, and it wouldn’t have been fair to Jared’s husband to not put him to rest as soon as possible. So he curbed his bitter words and pushed his pride aside and allowed them to handle the funeral. Jared snorted at the word _allowed_. As if he’d been in any shape to allow or disallow anything. Jared knew he wasn’t going to Dallas anytime soon. So he did the next best thing.

A few blocks away from Jared’s apartment was a small farmers cum flea market. He’d always found it relaxing to meander aimlessly through the shops and stalls offering their wares, even if he didn’t plan on actually buying anything. He could probably find his way to Misha’s flower shop blindfolded, and he headed there now.

Overhead, the sky was nearly clear of clouds. It was a beautiful autumn day with a nice breeze, and so there were plenty of vendors selling their wares. Jared ignored them as he made his way to the only other place he felt like he belonged anymore.

Jared had found the shop a few months before the death of his husband, and being a romantic at heart, became one of Misha’s regular customers whenever he felt like showering his husband with affection (via floral arrangements). Misha and Jared had been well on the way to becoming fast friends when the tragedy struck. When it happened, Misha offered to provide the funeral flowers at a deeply discounted rate and even carted them all the way to Dallas. The in-laws had been thrilled, and Jared had been grateful.

The bell rang as Jared walked into the shop and inhaled. Most of the flowers in the shop were of a darker hue now; somber colors for the season, but still the shop burst with color and scent. The proprietor, one Misha Collins, stood at the counter where his register sat, hunched over a magazine he seemed to be deeply invested in. On the cover, a picture of a strange-looking blue alien creature seemed to be throwing a peace sign and winking.

Misha didn’t look up right away. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and fixed Jared with an intense stare. Jared stopped in his tracks at the onslaught of that otherworldly blue-eyed gaze, and then he noticed what Misha was wearing.

Misha looked like he’d just stepped out of a vintage photograph from Woodstock. He’d donned an elaborate navy vest embroidered with large yellow, orange and pink flowers over a long linen shirt and faded, bell-bottom jeans. He’d wrapped a leather thong around his head like a headband three times, and tufts of hair stuck up through the bands. Jared had no words for a long minute. If nothing else, it distracted Jared from his depressing thoughts. Who could think about their problems with Misha standing in front of them dressed in that?

“Uh, nice outfit,” Jared finally said, trying not to look as amused as he felt, in case Misha was serious about that outfit. “Where’d you get it?”

“The sixties,” Misha replied, succinctly.

“Well that’s pretty obvious,” Jared said, “but not what I meant. I meant, where’d you find it?”

Misha leveled Jared with a patient stare. “I believe I just answered that,” Misha said with a smirk. Jared arched an eyebrow at him and let the subject drop. Odd yes, but Jared had long since learned to embrace Misha’s quirks.

“These aliens are boring me, Jared,” Misha said, and dropped the magazine down onto the counter. “It’s all the same theories, over and over, and just because they’re authored by different people with different words, they think they’re the next Erich Von Daniken.”

“Who?” Jared asked, completely lost.

“It doesn’t matter,” Misha responded with a wave of his hand. “Here’s a better thought for today anyway. I read this morning, on the internet, a theory about what causes déjà vu. Supposedly there is a parallel universe that exists a mere ten minutes behind us, like an echo. So you just came into my shop, yes? And so, in ten minutes, you will come into my shop again. Well not you, per se, but the you that lives in, um, let’s call it the echo verse. Ten-minute-later-me will say this exact thing to ten-minute-later-you. Now I wonder, are we now-us, or are we ten-minute later-us? And if we are now-us, then why do we even have a word for déjà vu? Wouldn’t that be a concept that only exists in the ten-minute-later world?”

Jared stopped, and thought about it, thrown off his purpose just by the sheer oddness of the question posed. He blinked as he tried to process the concept presented. It was creepy, is what it was. He felt a shiver whisper its way up his back and he looked over his shoulder as if he would see this so-called ten-minute-later-him approaching the flower shop.

“If it is just an echo, then we’d need to come up with déjà vu in our universe before there could be the idea of it there, right? And if that’s true, wouldn’t they be having déjà vu, like, all the time? I- I think we’re now-us, and that we’re screwing with the minds and emotions of ten-minutes-later-us and that’s not very nice of us, Misha.”

Misha grinned, seemingly delighted by Jared’s response. “Or, conversely,” he said, pointing at Jared as he moved out from behind the counter, “Ten-minutes-ahead-us are fucking with us. That’s not very nice of _them_.”

Jared actually laughed, but it was a reluctant sound. He shook his head and looked around at the various arrangements and suddenly, Misha was all business.

“Anything in particular today?” he asked, and Jared shrugged. He walked slowly around the shop for about a minute, until Misha popped up again with a small bouquet of flowers. As usual, they were just what Jared wanted; perfect. He took them and walked to the register.

“How much for this one, Mish?” he asked, pulling a few dollars and some change out of his pocket.

“How much you got in your hand?” Misha asked with a small, sad smile. Jared squinted at the currency he just pulled out of his jeans pocket.

“Looks like, about two dollars and twenty two cents,” he said.

“Then it’s two dollars and twenty two cents, including tax,” Misha said and took the crumpled bills, one dime, two nickels and two pennies. He dropped it into his register without preamble.

Jared knew the arrangement was worth more, but he also knew that Misha had named his price and wouldn’t take a penny more. He thanked the man and started to leave the shop, turning at the last minute.

“I still haven’t dreamt of him,” Jared said. “What do you think that means?” It was always like this between Jared and Misha, just random conversations that came out of nowhere. Misha smiled sadly.

“I don’t know, Jared. Do you think it means something?”

Jared pinched his lips tightly, not wanting to vocalize what he really thought – that the reason he hadn’t dreamt of his deceased husband was because Jared had failed him. He knew that wasn’t the case – if anything, everyone thought Jared had married below his status; that his husband had leached off of him unforgivably. Still, if Jared hadn’t pushed him to keep a job he hated, then he’d still be here.

“Jared, you’re a good person,” Misha said suddenly, and not for the first time Jared wondered if Misha didn’t have some kind of freaky mind-reading ability, because he did things like this all the time. “You were a good husband. He was lucky to have you. I think the reason you don’t dream about him is because you miss him so much. It might be too much to handle.”

It made sense, in a way, Jared supposed. He nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak. He managed a tight-lipped smile and raised the bouquet in farewell as he left the shop. The door closed behind him with a happy-sounding jingle.

Jared headed toward his destination determinedly. A few more blocks and the buildings gave way to a local park. It was usually greener here, but the trees had turned their leaves to gold, early for this time of year. Jared broke into a light jog, heading towards the back end of the park where it grew a bit wilder and where the hiking trails were. This was the place where he’d shared his first kiss with his husband, so many years before. This was where he’s going to leave the flowers, as silly and sentimental as it might be.

He set them on the ground next to a cedar tree and sat next to it, his back against the trunk of the tree.

“I miss you,” he said, looking at the flowers. He tried to not let the tears well up in his eyes and failed. At least they didn’t spill over- proof that he’d made progress. “I miss you so damn much. I even miss our stupid fights and how much you hated your job and how you had to go in so early it’d still be dark out even in summer. I miss your horrible cooking and your burnt spaghetti. I miss having you breathe next to me at night-“ Jared bit his lip because he couldn’t just sit there and list off all the things he missed about his deceased husband. He’d be there all night, sobbing until the cops showed up to escort the crazy guy spouting nonsense home. He stared at the ground until he was calm – until the craziness in his veins and mind didn’t feel like it was going to physically leak from his pores. He focused on the clumps of dirt and grass on the ground, and when he could breathe again he lifted his head.

Chad was there. He reached out a hand and grasped Jared’s forearm, helping him stand.

“C’mon Jare,” he said. “Let’s go home. Have you even had breakfast yet?”

Jared left the flowers by the tree. He said, “I think I might start looking for a new job next week.”

“That’s great!” Chad said, all exuberance. They both knew it probably wouldn’t happen.


	2. Chapter 2

“We dream to give ourselves hope. To stop dreaming - well, that’s like saying you can never change your fate.”

― Amy Tan, _The Hundred Secret Senses_

  
 **II.**  
 _Wednesday, October 23_  


  
Jen-Jen was officially _over_ , and the general consensus was that it was about fucking time. Now, to celebrate the final tie being severed, Jensen was hanging out in downtown Austin with his two best friends listening to an all-girl classic rock cover band wail out _Don’t Fear the Reaper_. Jensen wasn’t sure what the bigger hit with the crowd was – the music, or the skimpy little Oktoberfest costumes they wore.

The alcohol was flowing almost as freely as the banter. Jensen drank enough beer to feel pleasantly buzzed and ordered another round for the table, which was promptly delivered by a buxom waitress named Rory. With an adorable smattering of freckles across her nose and long, thick layers of blonde hair, she looked like she should be a model or an actress, not a waitress on Sixth Street, and both of Jensen’s friends had hit on her. Actually, he surmised, half the patronage in the bar had probably hit on her.

“God, Jen, Jennifer was such a _bitch_!” Steve stated emphatically, his eyes shining with mirth. “Damn, it’s so nice to finally be able to say that!” Chris reached across the table and bumped fists with Steve. Jensen rolled his eyes, but he tended to agree. He wasn’t going to let his friends know that, though. He was just happy he’d never have to hear “Jen-Jen” again. Jennifer was the one who’d come up with that gem, and Jensen hated it. “It’s cute, like Brangelina,” she’d often said, and then, of course, Jensen’s friends had picked up on it and started using it. Jennifer had been thrilled that the nickname had stuck, and Jensen hadn’t had the heart to explain that it was only ever used to mock them or to annoy him.

“Shut up, Steve,” Jensen said, taking a swig of his beer. “She may have been a bitch, but she was hella good in the sack, so you can suck it.”

“I wouldn’t mind that waitress sucking it,” Steve intoned lewdly, looking around the bar until he spotted Rory. She was currently balancing a tray of drinks in one hand and trying to reattach a paper skeleton decoration to the front window with the other, with minimal success. Thankfully another waitress saw her dilemma and hurried over to help. “Think I could get her number?”

“ _You_ should try to get her number, Jen,” said Chris, an earnest expression on his face. “Get back on the horse.” Jensen looked over at the waitress, objectively, and felt nothing. He scoped out a few other females in the bar, all of them hot, but not one of them drawing his interest for more than a glance or two.

“Jennifer and I just broke up,” Jensen pointed out. “I don’t think I’m ready to get back on the horse yet. Besides, I thought horses were your thing.”

Chris just grinned and slowly lifted the middle finger of his right hand. Jensen ignored him and let his eyes flit around the bar, seeing if there was anyone here he’d even consider having a one night stand with. His eyes settled on a young man standing over by the bar. He was probably a college kid; a little on the young side, but definitely attractive. He was tall with light brown hair, skin nearly the same color as his hair and warm golden eyes. He saw Jensen watching him and the corner of his mouth ticked up. It wasn’t an invitation, but it wasn’t a “get lost”, either. Jensen didn’t smile, but he did let an amused smirk come to his lips.

“You didn’t _just_ break up,” Chris said, oblivious to the connection being shared across the room. “You broke up three months ago, and she just now came and got the rest of her shit out of your powder blue apartment.”

That caught Jensen’s attention and he frowned. “It’s not powder blue, _Jesus_. It’s-“

“Do _not_ finish that sentence, Jensen, unless you want to be labeled a complete homo,” Steve joked, then winced. “Sorry, Jen, didn’t mean anything by that, really.”

Both Chris and Steve knew that Jensen was bisexual; they’d known it since college when they all went to the University of Texas at Austin together. They mostly chose to ignore it though, especially when Jensen had so conveniently dated and lived with a woman for the last two years. Jensen flicked a glare toward Steve.

“Doesn’t make you any less of a douchebag, Steve,” he said. He turned in his chair and looked for the guy at the bar. He was cute, had looked at least mildly interested in Jensen and it had been three months since Jensen got any. Well, more like five, really. The guy from the bar was nowhere to be seen and Jensen mentally shrugged. He wasn’t here to hook up, after all.

Two months before Jennifer had gathered the majority of her belongings and moved out she’d stopped having sex with Jensen. There was always an excuse for crying off; she had a headache or was tired or just wasn’t in the mood, and at the time, Jensen had bought it. They’d both been very busy, after all. Jennifer had been working hard trying to get promoted at the insurance company she worked for and Jensen had been spending long hours at work on his latest architectural commission for the city.

Now, Jensen could see it for what it really was; Jennifer withdrawing from him so she could make a clean break. He thought it would have been nice if she’d clued him in. Jensen hadn’t seen it coming, and yeah, he may have been a little oblivious, but he also felt like Jennifer didn’t even try to save the relationship. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and he still felt like a fool, but it was getting easier to deal with as time passed.

The most telling thing about the end of the relationship was how broken up Jensen _wasn’t_ about it. He felt a little guilty about that, actually, but there’s nothing he could do about it now. Obviously Jensen and Jennifer had reached their sell by date and were staying together only out of convenience or habit.

“Are you guys bored with this place yet?” Steve asked, coming back to the table. Jensen had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed Steve get up. Jensen wondered if he hadn’t just struck out with Rory (again). Jensen shrugged. He’d be content to stay where he was for the rest of the night, drink beer and listen to the cover band. They weren’t bad, actually, and really, he could do worse than stare at cute young girls in skimpy outfits.

“I’m good,” Chris said, leaning back in his chair as the waitress came back with their drinks and gathered up their empties. Chris grinned lasciviously as he pulled his empty bottle toward him so the woman had to bend over to pick it up. She pinched her lips together; it was obviously just a ploy to see down her shirt and she knew it. Jensen rolled his eyes.

“You’re classy, you know that?” Jensen said. It was meant to be an admonishment, but he couldn’t help smiling. The waitress stood back up and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“You’re a dick,” she said to Chris, her green eyes flashing as her lips spread into a wide, sarcastic smile. All charm, Rory was. She sauntered away in righteous indignation. Chris’ grin merely widened. Steve laughed and shook his head.

“So, Jensen, are you planning on staying single or are you looking yet?”

“I don’t know,” Jensen sighed. He was glad they were sitting in the very back of the bar so they didn’t have to shout quite so loudly to hear each other. “I’m kind of thinking about staying away from women for a while. Women are complicated.”

Steve laughed at that. Chris didn’t seem to be invested in the conversation, but that could be because the cover band had started singing _Bad Moon Rising_ and were all currently bouncing up and down. And they were _really_ bouncy. Jensen couldn’t help but smile as he took another swig of his beer.

“So, are you thinking about dating guys then?” Steve queried, and this time there was no teasing to his tone. It was just a question, like the cashier at the supermarket, asking, “Paper or plastic?”

Chris turned back to face them with a derisive snort, “So are you getting back on the fence, Jen? I kinda figured that you were over that phase, considering how long you were with Jennifer.”

Chris was drunk, which was why Jensen wasn’t going to tear him a new asshole. He grit his teeth. “Chris, I’m not going into this with you again,” he said, sobering. “You know I love you like a brother, but I’ve just about had it with you and your snide little comments. I’m bi; either accept it or get lost. When I’m dating a girl, I’m bi. When I’m dating a guy, I’m bi.”

Chris held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I was just asking, Jen. You know I don’t care who you fuck as long as you’re not trying to fuck me, yeah? I’m just sayin’ if you’re looking for a little man on man action you’re in the wrong bar. All eyes are on those.” He waves his hand toward the cover band girls. “I’m sorry if you thought I was being, you know, judgmental or anything like that.”

“No it’s okay,” Jensen said. “I’m probably a little defensive about it, too. We’re good.”

Chris’ face lit up in a grin. “Good. I’m glad we’re good.”

Jensen yawned. It wasn’t technically late yet, but he’d gotten up early for work and visions of his bed were starting to float in front of his eyes. He wondered if it meant he was getting old.

“Hey, I’m gonna settle my tab and head home, guys,” he said. “Thanks for taking me out; I had fun. You guys gotta ride home? You’re kind of smashed.”

“Nah, we’re good,” Steve said as he finished off his beer. He gave it a disappointed look. “We’ll either catch a cab back to our place or one of those Night Owl buses. I’ll make sure we get back in one piece, Mom.” Steve and Chris had been room-mates forever, which in Jensen’s opinion probably contributed to their perpetual bachelorhood.

“Oh, don’t go!” Chris complained loudly. “I said I was sorry!” He looked genuinely distressed. Jensen smiled as he stood and patted the top of Chris’ head like he was a puppy, or a small child.

“It’s not all about you, Kane,” Jensen said, addressing Chris by his last name. And then, “Get over yourself. I have to work tomorrow. Y’all are lucky I came out on a weeknight at all.” The tone was fond, though, teasing and Chris pushed Jensen away.

“Screw you, Jen,” he laughed. “Go to bed then, you pussy.”

Jensen flipped his friends off as he left the bar, knowing they’d take it with good humor. He smiled again; it was good to have friends.

 

  
***

  
 _Jensen found himself standing in a doorway, looking in on a long, rectangular room that exuded old world class. The off-white walls were subtly embossed with a shimmering floral pattern, offset by the exposed rafters overhead which were polished to a smooth chocolate glow. Rows of windows on each side of the room looked as if they belonged in a church despite the lack of stained glass – they were narrow and arched, pointing towards heaven, it seemed. Outside, it was dark, but Jensen could still make out a leafy frame of foliage – evidence of the ivy that must have grown on the outer walls. Sconces mounted between each window bathed the room in warm, if dim, light. Jensen moved forward into the room proper and took further stock of his surroundings._

 _Everything was a bit blurred, as if viewed through a soft-focus camera lens. There were people here, milling about somewhat aimlessly. Gentle, soft chatter pervaded the air. Eyes and lips were downcast; the mood was somber. Jensen’s feet sunk into the plush burgundy carpet with each step. The crowd of people parted for him, moving quickly and gracefully out of his way, even though not one of them acknowledged his presence. He passed through the crowd like the ghost he was afraid he was._

 _As the people moved aside, Jensen’s gaze was drawn unobstructed to the other side of the room. The reason for the gathering was at once apparent. He was at a funeral, or a wake._

 _The coffin sat underneath a giant bouquet of calla lilies. To either side two large bouquets of white and blue flowers rested on decorative pillars. The top half of the casket was open and a few people were standing beside it, looking down at the corpse. One of them was a woman who looked remarkably like his sister – if his sister dyed her hair dark and wore glasses. There were tears sliding down her face, but hers was a quiet pain._

 _Off to the left of the coffin stood a small assembly of men, and Jensen would swear that it was Chris and Steve standing there with two strangers – one a scruffy blond and the other a tall brunet. They all wore grief-stricken expressions, but the tallest of them seemed the most affected. His face was a combination of indescribable sorrow and disbelief, as if he were waiting for the person in the coffin to sit up and declare it all a jest. The tall man pushed away from the group and stumbled almost drunkenly over to the casket. He leaned over and draped himself across whoever’s corpse was lying there._

 _The room went silent as the three other men surrounded the first and pulled him back from the coffin, setting it off balance ever so slightly. For a horrific moment, Jensen was almost sure the coffin was going to flip over and spill the unfortunate body onto the floor. It didn’t happen, thank God. The tall brunet struggled weakly against his companions to get back to where he obviously wanted to be, but they prevailed and hauled him away. His behavior was drawing looks from the other attendees – looks of pity, looks of sadness and looks of outright disapproval. The man leaned back against the wall and covered his eyes with his hands. Jensen felt his stomach twist at the scene._

 _He decided then that he needed to see who was in the coffin. Jensen surged forward but then, something changed. It was like a switch was flipped and the people in the room suddenly became aware of his presence. Their eyes all fixed on him, expressions intense and unreadable; all except for the tall man who had used the distraction to make his way back to the coffin, sobbing openly._

 _“Get out of here,” an unknown person hissed._

 _“You don’t belong here,” another said, and Jensen did a double take. Was that his father? What the hell was going on here?_

 _“You’re only making it worse!” the scruffy blond at the back of the room shouted. The people started to crowd in on Jensen then, pushing against him as if to force him backwards and out of the room. Jensen started to withdraw, no longer caring who was in the coffin. He needed to get out of there, now. A sense of something wrong settled deep in his stomach, and it wasn’t only because of the reactions of the funeral goers._

 _Through the throng of people, Jensen saw the tall brunet in the back snap his head up and look at Jensen. His face was blurred like everyone else’s, but he started toward Jensen with his hand outstretched._

 _“No, Jensen!” he cried, pushing people out of his way. “Jensen, stay; don’t go. Jensen, please?” His voice was ragged with grief and tinged in desperation._

 _Despite the pleas to stay, Jensen understood that he had no business here. He was intruding on a private moment that was not his own, and he retreated. He’d just passed the doorway when the pain hit him; red hot pain that bloomed in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He hit his knees and looked down – saw blood blossom under his shirt. Jensen grasped at the fabric of his polo shirt (when did he change into a polo shirt?) and tried to pull it away from his chest. It didn’t help. Panic set in as he fell to the side. His body wasn’t working. He couldn’t even move his fingers and in the distance, growing blurry, he saw what looked to be a piece of fruit and a bottle of apple juice sitting on a counter._

That’s mine _, he thought._ That’s mine and now I won’t have it _._

 

  
 _***_  


  
Jensen was sitting up in bed with his covers thrown off even before he fully awoke. Blearily, the details of the dream seeped into his conscious mind as he sat in his dark bedroom, trying to calm his breathing. _What a crazy dream_ , he thought, and then shivered. It had been ages since he had a nightmare, and he blamed Jennifer for it. That had to be the reason. Stress caused by the breakup being completely done, completely over. There was a good possibility that Jensen might never see her again. It was a weird thought, to know that there was absolutely nothing connecting him to Jennifer save for their shared history. Maybe that was why his subconscious mind decided a funeral would be a fun setting for a dream.

Scowling, he looked at this clock to see what time it was and stared uncomprehendingly at the blinking 12:00 before he realized he needed to reset it. First, though, he needed to take a piss and use some mouthwash, because _my god, it tastes like I licked a squirrel – a dead squirrel_. Not that Jensen ever actually licked a dead squirrel, or a live one for that matter, but the analogy seemed appropriate for the thick film of _what the hell_ that was currently coating his mouth.

He handled his business in the bathroom and then recalled the blinking clock. _Dammit_ , he thought and then took a second to try to decide what was closer – his phone that was on the coffee table or the microwave, both of which would tell him what god-awful time it was in the morning. He just wanted to reset his clock and his alarm and go back to sleep. He flipped on the light switch, and immediately realized who the alarm clock saboteur was.

A furry orange donut was curled up at the foot of his bed. The ginger cat lifted his head and blinked at Jensen slowly as if to say, _How dare you disturb my slumber, mortal?_.

“Misha, kitty, you know you’re not supposed to be in here,” Jensen grumbled as he scooped the cat up into his arms. He scratched the top of Misha’s head until the cat started struggling to be put down. Misha was a friendly cat, but he seemed to hate being held. Jensen was still learning the cat’s quirks. He’d found him out by the dumpsters one day after Jennifer had left him. The cat had been wearing a collar that bore the cat’s name, Misha, but no contact information for his owners. Jensen had tried to find them, to no avail, and ended up deciding to keep the cat.

“Come on, out you go.” Jensen deposited the fur ball into the hallway as he went to check the time. It wasn’t the first time Misha had unplugged his stuff; the animal had a bad habit of messing with wires when he wanted Jensen’s attention.

“What did you want this time, Meesh?” Jensen asked as he walked to the kitchen. Microwave it was, then, and he could dump some food down for the cat while he was in there, maybe check to make sure he had water. “I better have more than 30 minutes left to sleep, cat,” Jensen grumbled as he put down food. Misha circled the dish, happy with the offering. By now Jensen knew that Misha wouldn’t eat the food while Jensen stood there, so he just patted the top of the cat’s head once more and padded back to his bedroom to sleep. He shut the door firmly behind him and double checked to make sure it was latched before turning off the light and climbing back into bed. Reaching over, he reset his clock for 3:46 AM, and then set his alarm for 6:00 AM. The firm opened at 7:00 but Jensen wanted to get an early start. He was asleep in minutes.

 

  
***

  
 _This time, Jensen found himself standing in his apartment. He felt at home here, but something was off. Something wasn’t right. It’s the walls, Jensen realized. More specifically, it was the way they were changing colors. Shimmering somewhere between blue and grey, they were at one moment one color, the next another. That could only happen in a dream, right?_ Of course _, Jensen reasoned._ I’m dreaming. Okay _._

 _Jensen had never been a lucid dreamer – in fact, he’d always been skeptical of anyone who claimed they were. He wondered, briefly, if he could fly if he wanted to. He decided not to try, because he’d rather get to the bottom of the sense of wrongness permeating the apartment._

 _He studied the walls for a minute and they settled from his pale robin’s egg blue into a soft grey. Jensen remembered this color as the one he almost bought when redecorating his apartment and had decided to repaint. Ultimately it was Alona Tal, his interior designer, who’d changed his mind, saying that the grey was too impersonal. He liked it though, this color, especially with the white molding at the top and bottom. It was relaxing, not impersonal._

 _Just past the kitchen, at the mouth of the hallway that led to the bedrooms there was a cluster of unfamiliar photographs hanging on the wall. All of the photos were of him, or of him and a tall, handsome man whose grin seemed to almost literally stretch from ear to ear. He had adorable dimples and in every picture he was standing as close to Jensen as he could without being inappropriately intimate. Jensen’s brow furrowed as he looked at the pictures. They wore tuxes in most of the pics, both men supremely happy. With a shock, Jensen realized these were_ wedding photos _. He was sure of it._

 _It was obvious now when Jensen looked at the pictures. In one, he was standing next to this unknown man, staring up into his eyes with such adoration that he felt an ache of loss. This is a dream, he thought. He reached out and rested his fingertips on the cool glass that covered the photo. It felt so real. When he pulled his hand away he left fingerprints that soon evaporated. There was a flash of memory, of seeing this man next to a coffin, but the memory was gone as quickly as it came and Jensen knew he’d never seen this man before in his life._

 _He quickly looked over the rest of the pictures. Jensen and this unknown man standing next to a cake, in the next trying to feed said cake to each other as messily as possible. A candid shot of Jensen standing on a beach in swim trunks, smiling shyly at the camera, and in the next picture both of them stood on the same beach, but the tall man had attempted to sweep Jensen into his arms as if Jensen were a bride being carried across a threshold. Jensen’s face wore an expression of both amusement and shock. A wedding and a honeymoon, Jensen thought._

 _As he turned to take in more of his surroundings – the couch was different; didn’t look as comfortable as the one he had in real life –he became aware of how very dark it was in the apartment. It was more than just the lighting, too; there was a heaviness he could feel on his shoulders, in his stomach, and in his bones. He rolled his shoulders as if to cast off some of the weight, but it didn’t help. The heaviness was pervasive. It threaded through his veins and settled in his lungs. Jensen wanted to run from it. He wanted to turn tail and get the hell out of this warped version of his apartment._

 _It was then he realized that someone was sobbing - deep, hiccupping sobs that were so raw they twisted up Jensen’s insides just to hear them. He turned away from the photos as the walls flashed to blue to grey again and followed the sound into his bedroom. It was strangely dark in here as well, even though beams of light from the setting sun streamed through the window. The sobbing man on Jensen’s bed seemed to be the same guy from the photos on the wall, but to be absolutely sure Jensen needed to see his face, and it was currently buried in a pillow while the guy’s broad shoulders shook with emotion._

 _Well. This was awkward. Jensen bit his lower lip. Should he say something? He certainly couldn’t just stand there while this guy sobbed like his heart just got ripped out. He rapped two knuckles against the wall._

 _“Um, hi?” he said uncertainly, and it seemed a ridiculous thing to say to someone who was emanating so much sorrow and grief. Jensen would’ve bet money on the guy being the source of the darkness and heaviness in the apartment – it radiated from him, palpable if not visible. The man jerked his head toward Jensen, his sobs abruptly ceasing. Apparently Jensen caught him by surprise._

Maybe he has the wrong apartment _, Jensen thought, and then,_ probably not, since this is a dream and my walls keep changing color _._

 _“J-Jensen?”the man stuttered, staring at Jensen with wide, red-rimmed eyes. Yeah, he was definitely the guy from the photos._

 _“Yeah, that’s me,” Jensen smiled and tried for a bit of levity. “Do I know you? What are you -?”_

 _Jensen’s words were cut off abruptly by the stranger launching himself bodily from the bed, hauling Jensen into his strong arms and claiming Jensen’s mouth with his own, all in the space of a few words. Shocked, Jensen stood rigid, yet for some reason he allowed it, letting this stranger hold him close and maul his mouth with his own. The kiss was sloppy – hot, wet and salty with tears. But then, something changed._

 _It was the most intense, heated kiss Jensen ever experienced. It stole his breath and he started to melt into it, closing his eyes and returning the kiss with fervor. He figured he may as well, since it was a dream. Finally, after thoroughly exploring each other’s mouths, the stranger pulled away and just stared at Jensen. It was a little discomfiting. Jensen struggled to form coherent thought - he felt dazed and off-kilter, like the only thing holding him on his feet was the sure, tight circle of this man’s arms. He tried to catch his breath, or say something, and failed at both._

 _“How are you here?_ Are _you here? Am I dreaming?” the guy started petting Jensen’s face frantically. He threaded his fingers through Jensen’s short-cropped hair before encircling him once again in an embrace._

 _“I’m pretty sure I’m the one dreaming,” Jensen finally managed to say with a wry smile. “Who are you?”_

 _The man’s brow furrowed and he pulled back a bit, loosening his grip on Jensen._

 _“Jensen? I’m Jared, your husband. Don’t - don’t you know me?.”_

Husband. Of course he is _, Jensen thought, remembering the photos he’d looked at earlier. Jared looked at him fondly and leaned in and kissed him again. This time Jensen didn’t reciprocate, but pulled away. He felt a bit like he was leading this man on. Sure, he was gorgeous and completely Jensen’s type, but he had just been sobbing on Jensen’s bed and was very obviously confused._

“J-Jared?” Jensen stammered as he lifted his hand and splayed it on Jared’s chest. “I don’t have a husband. I’m single; actually that’s a pretty recent development – a good development, if you ask my friends, but – um,” Jensen realized he was starting to ramble and this Jared guy looked stricken. “I don’t think. you should be here. I think you have the wrong apartment.”

A tear slipped from Jared’s eyes which were closed tightly now. “Please be here, Jensen. Even if you somehow don’t remember me, please just be here when I wake up. Please. Please.” The last words were barely whispered and Jensen was pulled tightly to Jared’s chest.

“Jared? I don’t understand what’s going on,” Jensen said, his own confusion evident in his voice. The hands were back, petting through his hair and tracing his features.

“Jen, my Jen,” Jared breathed and rested his forehead against Jensen’s. His eyes were still squeezed shut. “Don’t you know? You’re dead, Jensen. I buried you today.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You're something between a dream and a miracle.”

― Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  
 **III.**  


 _Thursday, October 24_

  
Jensen’s alarm clock blared its awful electronic screech and he hit the device haplessly with one hand until he hit the snooze button. _Should have splurged on the fancy one_ , he thought, _could have been waking up to cathedral bells instead of this shit_. He sat up and flipped the alarm switch to off so he wouldn’t have to hear its obnoxious noise again in ten minutes. Once he’d forgotten it and it went off while Jensen was in the shower, scaring him so badly he’d nearly fallen out of the bathtub. Chris had laughed hysterically when he’d heard the story, reluctantly told only after Chris had noticed the giant rend in Jensen’s shower curtain. Jensen, nursing an angry bruise on his shin, hadn’t found it quite as funny.

Once in the shower, Jensen stood under the steady stream of water as it sluiced down his body, letting it wake him up fully. It was then that he remembered his dream; remembered _Jared_. God, the guy was gorgeous, but what a strange dream it was. Jensen had been what – some kind of ghost? Undead? It was a little creepy, if Jensen were to be honest with himself. He poured a dollop of shampoo in his hand and started to scrub his hair while wondering just what his subconscious was trying to tell him.

 _I’m never drinking with Chris and Steve again_ , he told himself, trying to lighten his own mood. Seriously though, what was with that dream? Why would he dream he was dead? More, why would his brain invent a husband for him and then make that husband mourn Jensen? He shook his head, both to clear the thoughts from his head and the water from his eyes. It didn’t work, on either count.

It was as he was stepping out of the shower that he remembered the first dream – the one that had him awake and feeding the cat at 3:45 in the morning. _Holy shit, that was me in the coffin_ , he realized. Startled by the thought, he banged his shin on the edge of the tub and cursed louder than was probably necessary. Damn it, if he kept this up he was going to have a perma-bruise on his shin, right at the level of the edge of the tub.

Shakily, he ran his hands over his chest, remembering how the blood had bloomed there. Fuck. He really hoped the dream wasn’t prophetic, because he really didn’t want to die. He knew that if he were to die today, there’d be no one who’d mourn him so deeply as the man in his dream did. Sure, his parents, his siblings and his friends would mourn him, but not like _that_. Not as if the one light in the universe had been extinguished. Jensen felt a pang in his heart as he realized he had no one he’d mourn like that either. He couldn’t say with any certainty that if Jennifer had died at the pinnacle of their relationship that he’d have felt the loss as strongly as Jared did. _Does_ , Jensen thought, and then, _Doesn’t, because he’s not real_. Jensen steadied himself on the counter, feeling a little dizzy.

Maybe, just maybe, Jensen’s newly single status was a good thing (if after three months it could still be considered new). Then again, it had been three months without waking up next to someone, to have someone there when he came home, to hold and be held by in return. It’d been three months and already Jensen felt like he was missing out on something. He didn’t talk about it much, or at all really, because his friends were all classic straight male types who thought that any discussion of feelings outside of an emergency (or alcohol-induced) situation was treading on _girly_ territory.

Jensen wiped the steam from the mirror and prepared to shave. _Doesn’t matter anyway_ , he thought. _It was just a dream_.

 

  
***

  
Finally dressed and a bit more ready to face the day, Jensen stood in the kitchen staring impatiently at his coffee pot as it filled slowly. He tapped his fingers on the counter in time with the drip, drip, drip and grew annoyed when he couldn’t seem to get that stupid dream out of his head. He stared across the kitchen island into the living room, rested his chin on his hand and sighed.

The walls flashed to grey. It lasted a split-second and Jensen stopped tapping his fingers and shook his head. Just then the cat made a figure eight around his legs, asking to be fed or let out and it brought Jensen’s brain back on track. He blinked, because there was no way that actually just happened. He opted for the cliché reaction because, hey, why not, and pinched the crap out of his arm to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Ow, fuck!” he cursed and rubbed the spot he’d just pinched. “Okay. I didn’t plan on losing my mind until I was a little older, but there you go. “

“J-Jensen?”

Jensen’s head snapped up, and he looked around wide-eyed for the source of the voice. There was no one here that he could see; the apartment was just as empty as it was when Jensen came out of the bedroom. At least he hoped it was.

“Who’s there?” he called, loudly. “Chris? Is that you?” He knew it wasn’t Chris. The voice was deeper and completely wrong for Chris. It definitely wasn’t Steve either. Jensen skittered backwards until his back pressed against the counter. Wanting a weapon, he borrowed a move from nearly every cheesy horror movie ever and pulled the biggest knife he owned out of his knife block. Slowly, methodically, he looked around his apartment again.

From where Jensen was pressed back against his kitchen counter he could almost see his entire apartment; from the front door his eyes swept across the living room and down the hallway to the closed doors of his office, bathroom and bedroom.

“Jensen?” the voice asked again, sounding weak and a little breathless. “Oh my god, Jensen!”

“Who’s there?” Jensen demanded again, his own voice rough, as he inched his way out of the kitchen. The owner of the voice sounded close, so obviously there was a ventriloquist hiding somewhere in his apartment fucking with him. _Fucker could be in the office_ , he thought, _or maybe in the bathroom. God, was he in there when I was showering?_ It was kind of a horrifying thought.

“Jensen, baby, it’s me. It’s Jared. Where are you, Jen? I can’t see you!” the voice sounded a little panicked now. Okay, so it was a _blind_ ventriloquist who somehow happened to share a name with the guy Jensen dreamed of last night, and – Jensen started laughing, because the lack of logic in that bordered on ridiculous.

“Oh my God, I’ve actually gone crazy!” Jensen said, loudly. He put the knife back in its block, still laughing a little. He leaned on the counter and threaded his hands through his hair. “Congratulations, Jennifer, you did it, you bitch. You actually drove me mad.” He may as well talk to Jennifer as if she was here, because if he was really crazy he kind of had a free license to do so.

 _I wonder what kind of crazy comes with auditory hallucinations_ , he wondered. Meanwhile, said auditory hallucination came back with, “Jensen? Who’s Jennifer? Are you a ghost? Is Jennifer a ghost? Oh, my God, are you _haunting_ me?”

“Jared, hush,” Jensen said, holding up a hand even though this hallucination claimed not to be able to see him. “I’m not haunting you. I’m pretty sure I’m alive, and that you’re not real. You’re some kind of manifestation of stress from my breakup with Jennifer.”

“Breakup? With Jennifer? Jensen, you never dated anyone named Jennifer. You’re gay, remember?”

“Bi, actually,” he responded and then winced. It was an automatic response by now, but sometimes it doesn’t go over well – people didn’t like to be corrected, but Jensen felt if he had to be labeled, it might as well be the correct label. He waited to see if he’d offended Jared. _No, not Jared. My delusion; Jared doesn’t exist._

Just then the doorbell rang. Jensen glanced at the clock. It was just a few minutes past 6:30 in the morning and Jensen wondered which of his insane friends dragged themselves out of bed to come pound on his door this early. _Shit, it’s probably important._

“Jensen, I-“ Jared started.

“Jared, I can’t deal with you right now. There’s someone at my door, so I need you to stay quiet. Please,” Jensen felt a little bad for cutting Jared off (but then _not_ , because it shouldn’t count if you were rude to a fucking _hallucination_ , of all things.) He heard an indignant huff that had to have come from Jared as he moved toward the front door.

“No one’s at the door,” Jared said, sounding perplexed.

“Shut up!” Jensen said again, his voice a near whisper. Another thought occurred to him. Maybe, just maybe, one of his friends was messing with him, and they were here to fess up. What did they do? Sneak into his apartment while he was busy in the studio yesterday and wire speakers in? Yeah, that would be a hell of an intricate prank, but if they had the means Jensen had no doubt they’d actually do it.

Looking through the peephole, Jensen saw a familiar, petite blonde woman standing outside. He opened the door and tried to paste a smile on his face.  
“Alona, hi! What are you doing here?”

Her arms were full of something lumpy wrapped in brown packing paper, and she pushed past Jensen without waiting to be invited in.

“You know how to make a girl feel welcome, Jensen,” she said, setting whatever it was she was holding on Jensen’s coffee table. “And stop trying to fake smile. It’s creepy.”

Jensen did manage a genuine smile at that. “My smile’s not creepy.”

“Jensen, who’s there? Oh, God, tell me you didn’t just bring in more ghosts. Are you a ghost? Jensen? Are you there?” Jared’s voice echoed loud and clear through the apartment.

Jensen looked around a bit frantically. Alona seemed nonplussed, standing by the coffee table with her arms crossed.

“Did you hear something?” Jensen asked. Alona tilted her head.

“Should I have?” she asked. “Aren’t you at all curious about what I’ve brought you?”

Alona was a wonderful interior designer, and usually Jensen couldn’t wait to see what new treasure she’d found for him. After Jennifer left, Jensen hired her to redo the entire apartment. He didn’t feel like moving, but he wanted a fresh start, so he called up Tal Design & Creations at the recommendation of a client. He got Alona Tal out of the deal, owner of the company and interior design genius. So far, his only quibble with her had been over the wall color when her blue won over his gray.

“Of course I’m curious,” Jensen said, distracted. He wandered into his kitchen and starts opening cabinets. He scooted his plates over and looked behind them. Maybe there was a speaker hidden somewhere. Maybe there was a logical reason that Alona didn’t seem to hear Jared.

“Jensen, I’m in here,” Alona sounded a little exasperated so Jensen walked back into the living room, but only after doing a cursory glance through his freezer and refrigerator.

“Sorry! Sorry,” he said. “What’s with the paper? I thought we were done decorating.”

“Aw, sugar, don’t you know I missed you?” Alona said with a fake drawl. “Actually, I’ve just found the finishing touch for you. Ta da!”

With that she pulled the lumpy paper off the package she brought over and Jensen took his first look at it.

“What is it?” Jensen asked.

“What is what?” Jared said, a beat behind, and if nothing else, _this_ was going to drive Jensen crazy.

The statue sat on a smooth black marble square which was mounted again to a larger brass platform. The animal was arched with its butt in the air; its front legs straight out as if in prayer or supplication. The head was reared back, far enough that the great curved horns hovered just above its back. If this was pose taken from nature (and Jensen doubted it somehow), then the beast was either landing after an awkward jump or posturing before a fight to mate. Aside from the marble base, the entire thing was cast in highly polished brass and heavy as hell. Jensen just knew that Misha would be knocking this over, and only hoped that it wouldn’t land on the cat if, no, when he did. Jensen really didn’t need vet bills right now.

“It’s an impala, oh Nature Guru,” Alona said, mouth tilted up in a smirk.

“Nature Guru? Me?” Jensen turned away and lifted up his couch cushions – first the left one, then the right. The speaker could be in his couch. Alona could be in on it; paid to pretend she can’t hear Jared so Jensen really thinks he’s crazy.

“I’ve seen you watching Animal Planet,” Alona said, and Jensen could hear the strange look she was giving him in her voice. “Did you lose something?” She scurried over to stand next to him and looked down at his couch, her expression dubious.

“Um, maybe?” is all Jensen said. He’d moved on to his end table, lifting the lamp and looking under the shade and under the base.

“How do you maybe lose something?” Alona wanted to know.

“Jensen, who are you talking to?” Jared wanted to know.

“Will you both just be quiet?!” Jensen yelled, spinning around to face Alona. Her eyebrows lifted and she took a step back.

“Hey, Jensen, are you okay?” Her eyes were wide with concern.

“I’m fine!” he responded, and it was still too loud.

“Hey, inside voice, Jensen. If you’re going to yell at me – which I _don’t_ deserve, by the way – then I’m taking this kick-ass impala back where I found it, and I’m going to be really, really pissed off at you.” Alona moved toward the statue, and Jensen put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her progress.

“I’m sorry, Al,” he said. “I’m feeling a little out of it this morning.”

“Who’s Al?” Jared asked, and it caused Jensen to close his eyes, pinch the bridge of his nose and try to calm his breathing. “Is Al a, uh, ghost friend of yours?”

Jensen turned to Alona. “Are you seriously telling me you don’t hear that?”

“Hear what, Jensen?” Alona asked, her arms crossed over her narrow chest. “You’re starting to freak me out. Are you on something?”

“What? Of course not,” Jensen said, letting a little righteous indignation seep into his tone.

“So you’re not on anything, and you’re hearing things?” Alona was starting to sound scared. This was not good. Jensen forced himself to laugh.

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, Tal,” he said. He really hoped she wasn’t in on this joke with Chris or Steve or one of his other friends. She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“That’s not funny,” she said. “Can you look at the statue I brought for you now, or is that asking too much?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jensen said, noticing that Jared hadn’t piped up in a minute or two. Maybe it’s over.

“Well? What do you think?”

“I don’t know, Alona,” he said finally. “It’s not really me, you know? Actually I think Jenni might have liked it.”

The face that Alona pulled was both amusing and frightening in its intensity. “Jennifer would have hated it.”

Jensen wasn’t that petty. At least, he’d like to think he wasn’t, but looking at the statuette now he realized Alona was right. Jennifer would have vetoed it. He took another look, appraisingly. It wasn’t that bad after all. It was sleek and sophisticated; much like Jennifer. Hell, it even had horns – Jensen hoped he wasn’t being suckered.

“Nothing I pick out Jenni liked,” she said. “Remember that fight you had right in front of me about how I was a professional and went to school for this? And that was _after_ you broke up. Maybe you ought to remember that. Besides, what will I do with this thing if you don’t want it? I thought you’d love it. I was so sure you’d love it, I paid for it with my own money because I knew I could count on you, Jensen. Are you letting me down? I feel like your letting me down.”

And there it was, the feeling of guilt that Alona definitely wanted him to feel. He sighed. “Okay, let’s see how it looks and then maybe you can find another client to buy it. “ He held out his hands and Alona hefted the monstrosity into his awaiting arms.

Alona followed Jensen over to the fireplace, and Misha followed right behind Alona and bumped his little furry head against her ankle.

“Misha!” Alona crooned, dropping into a crouch so she could pet the cat. Misha arched up and purred at her as her fingers stroked down his back and ruffled his fur. “Who’s a pretty kitty? Huh? Who is a pretty kitty? You are! Misha’s a _pretty_ kitty. Oh, Jensen, he’s so sweet. I can’t believe Jennifer wanted you to re-home him. She wasn’t even _living_ here when you found him.”

Jensen set the impala statue on the shelf above his fireplace but didn’t take time to really look at it before he turned to Alona. “I know. Crazy, huh? He’s a pretty good cat, I guess. I never did find out who he belongs to.”

Misha rubbed forcefully against Alona’s hand, letting her know that she’d gone lax with her petting. She laughed and resumed rubbing his back. As he turned away, she ran her hand down his tail, ending the petting session. Standing back up, she said, “You know, you should really get him fixed. Don’t male cats spray to mark their territory?”

“So I’ve heard,” Jensen said. “But he’s never done that. It kind of makes me cringe a little, to be honest. But I should be a responsible pet owner and get that done, I guess. Especially since I let him outside. He probably spends all his outside time siring litters.”

Misha, instead of walking away, seemed to have taken an interest in the conversation. He sat on the floor between Jensen and Alona, looking back and forth between the two of them. His body tensed, as if he was going to make a run for it. Alona reached down and scooped him up. Jensen winced, knowing the cat didn’t really like being held. He seemed to tolerate it from Alona, though

“You probably _are_ doing just that, you pervy cat,” she laughed. “You don’t want to go to the vet and get those fluffy nuts cut off, do you?”

At that the cat pointed his ears backwards and took an honest to God swipe at Alona’s neck. Startled, she dropped him and took a step back. Jensen was surprised too; Misha had never been anything but sweet to Alona. Jensen couldn’t really blame the cat though. He’d probably do the same thing if anyone ever suggested he get his _fluffy nuts_ cut off. Jensen didn’t know whether to laugh or grimace. He choked out a sort of half laugh before he managed to stifle it.

“You okay, Tal?” he asked, gently touching her arm to turn her toward the fireplace.

“Yeah, he didn’t get me,” she said. “Oh, Jensen, see! I told you it would be perfect!”

Jensen had to grudgingly admit she was right. Although he’d would have preferred it if the animal wasn’t posed in quite so odd a position, it did look nice. He stole a glance over at Alona, surprised at how emotional she’d gotten over the statuette.

“Alona?” he said her name softly, just to get her attention. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, wiping at her eyes. “It’s just – that’s it. That’s the last piece. Anything else and it would be too much. My work here is done.”

It almost felt like another breakup. Jensen knew that was ridiculous, but it was true nonetheless. He was going to miss Alona popping by with random crap. Jensen elbowed her.

“Are you crying?”

“What? No! Of course not,” Alona smiled and rolled her eyes which were decidedly watery.

“You know you’re welcome here whenever you want to stop by, right?” he said. “Actually, now that my apartment is decorated I should have a party or something. Housewarming party, right?”

“Jensen,” said Alona with amusement in her voice. “You’ve lived here for years – you’ve just redecorated. Besides, everyone knows you can’t throw your own housewarming party.”

“I can’t?”

“No! I forbid it,” Alona laughed, crossing her arms over her chest. “But don’t worry, I might know someone who might be able to do something.”

Jensen laughed, sure that he could count Alona as a friend rather than just his interior designer. “Just tell me when to be here for my party dammit.”

Alona shared the laugh with Jensen. “Oh, I almost forgot. The statue is $300.”

Jensen choked. “Three hundred? Dollars?”

“No, Jensen, clams. Of course dollars. That includes tax and fees and whatnot and I’ll bring you a receipt when I see you next time.”

“I don’t know that I like it that much,” Jensen said. He turned back to the statue just in time to see Misha jump up on the mantle to investigate the new piece. “Oh, no! Get down! Bad kitty!” he rushed over and scooped the cat up, who promptly twisted into a pretzel and freed himself from Jensen’s grasp. He rushed past Alona, who had opened the front door just a little in preparation for her own departure.

Jensen sighed. “Damn cat,” he muttered. “Hold on, Al, and I’ll write you a check for the statue.”

“You’re keeping it?” Alona’s eyes lit up and she grinned. “See, I knew you’d love it!”

Jensen just smiled as he walks to his office and retrieved his checkbook. He looked around his office for any evidence of a speaker, and since Alona wasn’t in here, he walked over to the wall and stood on his tip-toes to look into the heating vent that was located near the top of the wall.

“Hello?” he said into the vent. He was relieved when nothing answered him. He quickly wrote out a check to Alona, tore it from its booklet and rushed out to hand her the document.

“Here you go, Alona. Three hundred bucks for the finishing touch,” Jensen said and hoped he sounded genuinely happy about the statue. Alona’s answering grin reassured him.

“Pleasure working with you, Ackles,” she said. “I’ll see you at the not-a-housewarming-party I or my associates may or may not be throwing for you.”

“Sounds like a plan, Al,” Jensen laughed at her ambiguity. She mock saluted him and showed herself out, shutting the door firmly behind her. Jensen breathed a sigh of relief. No loony bin for him – not yet, at least.

“So,” Jared said, and Jensen bit back a curse. “The afterlife sounds awfully domestic.”

“I’m not a ghost, Jared!” Jensen fumed, storming back into his kitchen to get some damn coffee. “You’re not real. This isn’t real.”

He poured his coffee into his stainless steel travel mug and left his apartment for the office. Thankfully, his delusion (or practical joke) didn’t seem to have followed him there, and for the rest of the day, he lost himself in his work.


	4. Chapter 4

  
“True love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have seen.”

― François de La Rouchefoucauld

  
 **IV.**  


 _Thursday, October 24_

  
Jared sat in the driver’s seat of his late husband’s 1983 Ford Thunderbird and tried to make sense of his life. It was only 10:30 AM, but Jared felt exhausted. It had been one hell of a morning. As usual, he’d been blindsided by his moment of forget-remember-mourn, but then he’d remembered his dreams. And what vivid dreams they had been.

There had been a short moment of elation when Jared realized that he’d dreamt of Jensen for the first time in over a year. These dreams had been strange in that they’d been more memories than anything else – memories of being at the wake and how Jensen’s friends had physically pulled him away from the coffin and then the night of the funeral. Jared blamed the strange nature of dreams and his own masochistic mind for supplanting a ghostly Jensen in both scenarios. It was when Jared saw Jensen that he realized he was dreaming. For one, the real Jensen would never look at Jared as if he were a stranger. Still, Jared found himself staring at Jensen – familiarizing himself with the green of his eyes and his freckles. It had been distressing to realize how many small details he’d forgotten.

The day of the funeral had prefaced the worst night of Jared’s life. After the ceremony, he’d insisted that Chad drive him back to Austin and let him be alone in his apartment. Chad had caved on the driving but refused to leave Jared alone to rot in his apartment (Chad’s words, poorly chosen in Jared’s opinion). He ended up crashing on Jared’s couch and stayed there a few days, only leaving for fresh clothes and food. That night though, Jared had sobbed himself to sleep like a child; not caring who heard him and not allowing Chad to offer him any sort of comfort.

Strangely, the funeral had been harder to get through than the day Jensen had actually died – then, there’d been a cushion of shock to keep Jared alert and going. The funeral was supposed to provide closure; all it did was reinforce the reality that Jensen was never coming back. Some people said they could feel their loved one’s presence after they died, like they were watching over them. Jared felt nothing. No, that wasn’t completely true. Jared felt completely alone.

His hands shook, and he flexed his fingers around the steering wheel, making the cheap vinyl cover shift and complain. He rested his head on his hands and tried to remember to breathe. Perhaps Misha had been right. Perhaps the reason Jared hadn’t dreamt of Jensen was because he couldn’t handle the memories they’d dredge up.

Jared turned the key in the ignition and was surprised when the car started. It had always been a crapshoot whether the car would start or not, and before Jensen had died he’d made murmurings about needing to replace the battery terminals. Jared was pretty sure there was a clamp under the hood somewhere holding something important together, but he had no idea what or where. He didn’t dare to drive it even though it had started - he’d let the insurance lapse and the tags were expired. Chad had tried exactly once to try to convince Jared to sell the car and with the fight that ensued – well, Chad never brought it up again.

“I’m not crazy,” Jared breathed over the soft rumble of the engine. “That was Jensen. It was.” He felt his eyes sting, because hearing Jensen again – even if it meant he was being haunted – was the most beautiful thing Jared had ever heard. Still, the way Jensen hadn’t seemed to know Jared in the dreams last night and then again this morning left Jared unsettled. Could Jensen have forgotten him?

“Maybe I _am_ crazy,” Jared muttered. He glanced at the clock on the car stereo and realized he’d been sitting in the car for a half hour now, trying to get his head on straight. He wanted to talk to Chad. He needed to see Chad, and to look him in the eye when he told him about this so he could be sure that Chad didn’t think he was crazy. _But what if I am?_ Jared turned off the Thunderbird and locked it before climbing into his own SUV. He reminded himself that today was Thursday and Chad would be at work. Jared took a deep breath and started his car.

 

  
***

  
Jared was surprised that he still remembered how to get to Chad’s school. After all, it had been over a year since he’d been there and since it was Chad’s place of employment, Jared had never had much reason to visit. Still, he did find it and parked his SUV in the back of the parking lot.

What was more amazing was the secretary in the office who actually remembered Jared. She was a plump, pleasant woman with red curls and an adorable smile, and she handed Jared a visitor’s pass and waved him on back.

“Usually we call them up here for visitors but the kids are at recess, so go on back,” she’d said. Jared thanked her and draped the visitor’s pass lanyard around his neck. Chad’s classroom was the last door on the right.

Jared ducked into the classroom and found Chad immediately. Judging by the amount of paper, glitter and other sundry items glued to the tables and to Chad himself, Jared surmised he just missed arts and crafts time. Chad looked up in surprise and his lips split in a grin.

“Jare? Jared!” Chad was all exuberance as he rounded his desk to come greet Jared properly. “Oh my God, you left your apartment! I’d hug you, but . . .” He held out his hands, which were covered in the aforementioned glitter and possibly bits of feathers.

“Wow, do you teach kids or Tasmanian devils?” Jared asked wryly, and Chad laughed louder than was probably necessary.

“I kind of wonder that myself some days,” he smiled. “Kids are at recess right now. What’s up?”

This was the part of the conversation Jared was dreading.

“Something happened this morning, and I kind of needed to talk to you about it. Face to face. God, you’re gonna think I’m crazy-“

Chad arched one eyebrow and the corner of his mouth turned up a bit. There were so many things Chad could say right now, all true, and none of which argued favorably for Jared’s sanity. After all, he’d become a recluse; well on his way to agoraphobia if his foster mother was correct. Still, Jared did leave his apartment, even if it was usually just to get Chad off his back about it, or to go visit Misha at the flower shop.

“Yeah, ok,” Jared continued, wanting to acknowledge Chad’s look without starting an argument about it. “Just – do you believe in ghosts?”

Chad blinked exactly three times. Twice fast, once slow, and then he stared at Jared for a few seconds. He opened his mouth, furrowed his brow, closed his mouth and seemed to think for a few more seconds before opening his mouth again. This time it was accompanied by one finger held up. One more false start later and it seemed Chad had finally found the words he wanted to say.

“Jared, wait. _Ghosts?_ As in Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore?”

“No, not like that. Like, have you ever heard of a ghost you can only hear?”

“Jared, what’s really going on? I’m not going to call you crazy, but you can’t be vague about something like this – what are you getting at, exactly? Did you mess around with an Ouija Board? Holy shit, did you do a séance to talk to J-”

“Shut up, Chad,” Jared said with a frown. He supposed those were logical assumptions based on how he prefaced the conversation, but still – Chad should have known Jared better than to think he’d actually try something like an Ouija Board or a séance. The joking expression fell off Chad’s face so quickly it was as if it were never there in the first place.

“Jared, are you really hearing things? Hearing _Jensen_?”

Jared didn’t answer. Instead he looked at his shoes. He felt Chad’s hand come to rest on his shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, he knew, but it felt oppressive. He shrugged it off.

“Okay,” Chad said, more to himself than to Jared. “Okay, we can deal with this. Um, I think – let me talk to someone, get some info for you and when I come over tonight we’ll talk about this some more, okay? We’re going to figure this out. You’re not crazy, Jared, but I think we might need some, um, professional help on this one.”

“I don’t want to see a shrink!” Jared was suddenly on the defensive. He backed away from Chad just as the school bell rings to call the kids in from recess.

“I didn’t say a shrink, Jare,” Chad said, holding his hands up. Small kids started to pour into the room and Chad directed his attention to them.

“Alright, kiddos,” he said with a smile. “This is my brother, Jared. Say hi. Now, who wants to ask my brother questions?”

About twenty little faces peered up at Jared and one of the kids raised his hand. Apparently it was question and answer time.

“Yes, Andy,” Chad said.

“Are you a giant?” the kid asked. Jared couldn’t help but smile.

“Not quite,” Jared said. Another kid raised her hand.

“Yes, Kylie?” Chad pointed at her.

“Is your brother mean to you? My brother is mean to me.”

“He’s a little mean sometimes,” Jared said with a smirk aimed at Chad.

“Hey!” Chad said, affronted. “I am not! I’m a great brother!”

“Yeah, he is,” Jared affirmed. _Who wants me to see a shrink_ , he thought. Another little hand shot up.

“Why don’t you look alike?” the little boy shouted out, not waiting to be called on.

“Well,” Chad answered slowly. “That’s because I was adopted. Who knows what that means? Also, Trevor, you really ought to wait to be called on before you shout out your question, okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Murray,” the kid grumbled. Chad called on another little girl to answer the adoption question.

“My mama told me that kids who were ‘dopted don’t got mamas and daddies so they find mamas and daddies who want them.” She looked proud of herself for answering as Chad nodded. “And then the stork takes them to the right place because they were probably at the wrong place anyway, if there wasn’t a mama or a daddy for them.”

Jared couldn’t help but laugh at that, imagining a six-year-old Chad being delivered via stork to the Murray’s door.

“Good job, Angie,” Chad said. “Okay, one more question and then Jared has to go, alright?”

“Do you like cereal?” another kid didn’t wait to be called on and didn’t wait for an answer before he shoved what looked like a handful of Froot Loops into his mouth and started chewing.

“Um, yeah?” it wasn’t a question Jared expected to answer, pretty much ever. Chad laughed and said, “Okay, I’ll see you later.” He was smiling, but Jared could see serious worry in his eyes. Jared felt a little guilty about being the cause of that worry. He waved goodbye to the kids and on his way out heard Chad telling the kid that it wasn’t snack time. By the upset noises the kid started making, Jared would almost bet that a tantrum was on the way. He smiled, softly. Better Chad than him. Nothing to do now but wait until Chad came over after work and hope his apartment stayed silent until then. Never in a million years did Jared think he wouldn’t want to hear Jensen’s voice.

 

  
***

  
“Jensen?” Jared called as he entered his apartment. He’d driven straight back to the apartment after meeting with Chad. For a moment he’d considered dropping into HEB, the local grocery store, to pick up some snacks but a white flare of panic quickly changed his mind and he’d driven straight home. Now here, he wished he’d gone ahead and made the stop.

Taking a deep breath, Jared closed the door and looked around to see if anything was amiss. Was he really being haunted?

“Jensen?” Jared tried again, and when no response was forthcoming he breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, noting the time before setting it down on his coffee table. It was lunchtime – which seemed odd to Jared, that a day so strange as the day had been should have a lunchtime. His stomach growled its displeasure and he went to the freezer, taking out two hot pockets and popping them in the microwave to cook. He wrinkled his nose, trying to remember the last time he’d had an honest-to-goodness home cooked meal. He couldn’t. Looking around the kitchen, he suddenly wanted that more than anything, but the kitchen needed a good cleaning before he could even begin to start planning a meal.

He looked around with what he hoped was an unbiased eye, hardly believing he’d let it get to this state. Sure, Chad had been helping Jared keep the kitchen usable, but usable wasn’t exactly clean. Jared rolled up his sleeves, wondering where his sudden desire to clean the house came from. Perhaps having Jensen here, even if it was just his disembodied voice, had spurred Jared into action. Before, he’d never had allowed his living space to look like this – and he’d have died from embarrassment if Jensen had seen it like this. The microwave beeped and Jared made quick work of the Hot Pockets, and then spent the rest of the day cleaning up his kitchen.

 

  
***

  
Chad knocked on Jared’s door around five that evening. Jared gave one final glance around the kitchen and smiled to himself as he went to open the door. Honestly, Jared was a little surprised that Chad had knocked rather than just barge in as was normal. Shrugging it off, Jared answered the door and let Chad into the apartment. Chad bounded in and looked around, coming to a full stop when he saw the clean kitchen.

“Did you?” Chad managed to sputter out those two words and made up for the lack of verbosity by gesturing wildly at the kitchen.

“Yeah, I did, “ Jared said with a smile. “I wanted to cook an actual meal and I couldn’t do it in that mess.”

Chad arched an eyebrow. “You wanted to cook? Something besides Top Ramen or mac and cheese?” He looked around slowly, as if looking for something to explain this sudden change in Jared’s behavior.

“Yeah,” Jared said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I’m cooking very basic lasagna – pretty much just noodles, sauce and cheese. I – I thought you’d be happy to see it. I thought maybe you’d want to have dinner here, with me, while we talked.”

“Of course!” Chad was exuberant once again but Jared doubted his sincerity. “Sounds better than Jack in the Box, which is what I planned on grabbing tonight. So, lay it on me Jare – you wanted to talk about ghosts with me?”

Jared grimaced. He hadn’t heard Jensen since that morning and he was really starting to wonder if it wasn’t the product of his over-reactive imagination. After that dream he’d had last night, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Um,” he started. “You know what? Let’s wait on that conversation until after dinner?”

“Okay,” Chad said. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the arm of the couch. Jared noticed little dark splotches on the fabric and figured it must be raining outside. Sure enough, when he went to the tall, narrow kitchen window and slanted the blinds, he saw raindrops gently hitting the window.

“I didn’t realize it was raining,” Jared said, and Chad scoffed.

“It’s not rain if it’s not a downpour,” he said. “Besides, it only just started, and you know what they say – if you don’t like the weather in Texas. . . “

“Wait five minutes,” Jared finished up the familiar phrase that was one of his foster father’s favorites. Jared always thought it was a little silly, but it had been proven true time and again. Chad laughed.

“Exactly, bro. Exactly. Anyway, how close is dinner to being done? I’m starving?”

As if on cue, Jared’s kitchen timer rang out its tinny alarm and Jared retrieved the lasagna.

“Hey,” he said. “I didn’t burn it.”

“Miracles never cease,” Chad quipped. “You don’t burn food, Jared. Ever. What made you think it would start now?”

“I don’t know,” Jared responded, feeling sheepish. “I guess I just thought that it had been so long-“

“Pretty sure it’s like riding a bike,” Chad rebutted. “Can we eat now?”

“Yeah if you don’t mind blisters on your tongue. Let it cool a few minutes.”

“So, you gonna do the rest of the apartment like you did the kitchen?” Chad asked, looking around. Jared gave it a cursory glance.

“It’s not as bad as the kitchen was,” Jared said. Then he thought of Jensen again, haunting the place (maybe) and decided it wouldn’t hurt to pick up a few things. Jared walked back to the kitchen and dished up two plates of food, depositing them on the table. Chad immediately dove in. Jared tasted his, and was pleasantly surprised by how it turned out.

“So,” Chad said. “Talk to me about ghosts.”

Jared looked up at Chad with wide eyes and Chad narrowed his own. “Oh no, Jare, you can’t fix me with the puppy dog eyes right away.”

“Promise me you won’t think I’m crazy,” Jared said. Chad’s brow furrowed.

“Okay, Jared, I can’t promise you that I won’t think you’re crazy, but I can promise not to have you thrown into the Psych Ward at the Texas State Hospital.”

Jared arched an eyebrow at Chad.

“Okay, okay,” Chad sounded a little surly now. “You at least got a beer for me? I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”

“You’ve gone with me whenever I bought groceries,” Jared said.

“Your point?” Chad shot back.

“My point,” Jared said with exasperation, “is you know I haven’t bought beer since Jensen died.”

It was true, too. Jared had pretty much given up drinking. Not for any noble cause or anything like that, but more for the reason that Jared found himself unbearably maudlin anymore when drinking. All it seemed to do was open up every scar and let it bleed as if it was a fresh wound and he’d end up crying in his pillow all night. Because of this, Jared just stopped drinking since it didn’t offer him the oblivion that every book, movie and TV show had practically guaranteed would happen. _Drown your sorrows, my ass_ , Jared thought. _More like, drown in your sorrows_.

Chad was staring at Jared now, waiting for him to say something else.

“I heard Jensen this morning,” Jared finally said, figuring it was better to just put it out there, like ripping off a band-aid.

Chad took a deep breath and leaned forward. Jared gave him a minute to process that, but waited anxiously for his response.

“When you say you heard Jensen, what do you mean?” Chad was talking slowly. Jared felt a flare of irritation – he wasn’t a child, Chad didn’t need to speak to him as if he were.

“I mean I heard him, just like I can hear you right now, sitting across the table from me. I just can’t see him,” Jared searched Chad’s expression for a reaction, but Chad’s face was carefully neutral. Another long moment passed.

“Are you hearing him now?” Chad asked.

Jared leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table and threading his fingers through his hair. He exhaled slowly.

“You think I’m crazy,” he breathed. “Shit, Chad, I shouldn’t have said anything. I know – I know it’s impossible. I dreamed about Jensen last night, for the first time since he died and then I heard his voice this morning, clear as day. Am I crazy? Am I going crazy, Chad? I-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Chad said, reaching out and placing a hand on Jared’s shoulder. The warmth from the touch seeped through the fabric of Jared’s shirt. It helped center Jared and bring him back into the realm of rational thought. “I do not think you are crazy, okay? I don’t know that I believe that you actually heard Jensen, though. I mean, what are the odds? I don’t even know if I believe in ghosts, man. And if he was a ghost, why would he turn up now, a year after he’s been gone?”

“I don’t know, Chad,” Jared replied, and had to try real hard to keep the surliness out of his voice. “I don’t know how ghost time works. Maybe for him it’s only been a couple of days. Or maybe it’s been a couple of lifetimes. Oh God, maybe that’s why he didn’t know me.”

“He didn’t know you?” Chad looked perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“Let me start over,” Jared said, removing his hands from his hair and setting them on the table, one on top of the other. “Last night, I dreamt of Jensen. I haven’t dreamt of him since before it happened. Did I tell you that?” Jared didn’t wait for Chad’s response before continuing. “Anyway, it was weird, because it was just all the memories, you know? Like of the funeral and that night in the apartment when you brought me home – only Jensen was there. And he looked so confused, and didn’t remember me at all.”

“So you dreamed about-“

“Let me finish,” Jared interrupted, holding up a finger as if to shush Chad. Chad frowned. “Then, this morning, after I got up I could hear Jensen talking. He – he said he couldn’t see me, and he still didn’t know who I was. Anyway, I was thinking – what if Jensen’s been here this whole year and I just now started to be able to hear him? What if that’s the reason I haven’t been able to move on?”

Chad was still frowning and Jared started drumming his fingers on the table. Patience was not one of his virtues. Jared doubted it ever had been.

“I don’t know what to say, Jared. Do you hear him right now? Or was it just this morning? Could you have been sleepwalking?”

Now it was Jared’s turn to frown as he thought about what Chad had suggested. He supposed sleepwalking could be an explanation, but Jared didn’t feel like that was the case.

“No, I’m not hearing him right now. Actually, I only heard him this morning and he wasn’t just talking to me. He was talking to someone named Al. Could he have a ghost friend?”

“Oh, certainly,” said Chad. “Ghosts always buddy up with each other. Jensen was probably having him over for tea and crumpets. Jared, are you listening to yourself? Really?”

“If you’re gonna be an asshole then you can leave,” Jared snapped. “It’s not like I have anyone else I can talk to about this, you know. Your mom would have me committed.”

Chad arched one eyebrow and Jared could tell he was about to say something asinine, because he bit his lip and looked constipated. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m trying to believe you. I really am, Jare, but you gotta admit this sounds pretty far-fetched.”

“I know,” Jared said, and left it at that. “Hey, how’s the lasagna?”

Chad looks at his plate as if he’d forgotten it was there. “Oh, it’s good,” he says, deliberately picking up a forkful and putting it in his mouth. He chewed slowly. Jared does the same. Neither looked at the other, both lost in their own thoughts. It was then Jared heard the front door open. His head jerked over in the direction of the front door, and he craned his neck to see around the partition that divided the dining room from the living room and kitchen.

“Did you hear that?” Jared asked, standing. “It sounded like the front door just opened.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Chad said. “But you should go check, maybe it was ghosts.”

Jared scowled at Chad and contemplated taking away his plate of lasagna. Chad would certainly hear the door if Jared was closing it forcefully behind him. Instead of acting on his annoyance, however, Jared walked into the kitchen where he could see the front door. It was shut, locked and latched properly.

“That was weird,” he muttered to himself.

“Kind of your MO for the day, Jare,” Chad said and Jared revisited his earlier scowl, casting it over his shoulder and hoping Chad saw it. Chad didn’t. Jared moved closer to the door. He had heard it open, was sure of it, and then, while Jared stood there staring at a closed, locked door, he heard it shut again. He felt his heartbeat speed up and his breathing grow shallow.

The sound of someone getting a good stretch and yawn filled the apartment, along with a soft rustling sound that Jared would have sworn was someone taking off a jacket, or a coat. “God, it’s good to be home,” Jensen said softly, as if he were talking to himself.

“Chad!” Jared shouted, smacking his hand down on the counter in his excitement.

“Sweet Jesus on a jackrabbit!” Jensen colorfully swore. “Jared. You scared the bejeezus outta me. Still here, huh?”

Jared couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter that escaped him. Jensen was back, and now Chad would have to believe him. Chad peered at Jared through the archway that joined the dining room to the kitchen. His eyes were owl-wide as he crept slowly into the kitchen.

“Listen, Chad, it’s Jensen!” Jared said with a smile.

“Who’s Chad now?” Jensen asked , and Jared’s smile faltered a little.

“You don’t remember Chad?” Jared asked, perplexed. “Jensen, what do you remember?” Jared turned to Chad. “He doesn’t remember you.”

“Chad who?” Jensen inquired at the same time Chad started to talk to Jared.

“Yeah, I kind of got that,” Chad said dryly. “Thing is, Jared, you’re kind of talking to yourself here. I don’t hear anyone.”

Jared opened his mouth about three times before any words came out.

“Chad _who_?” Jensen repeated.

“Chad Michael Murray,” Jared clarified and Chad started to look scared. His eyes darted around the room.

“Never heard of – wait, Chad Michael Murray the actor?” Jensen sounded disbelieving.

“Chad, can you seriously not hear this?” Jared asked, frantic. “Jensen, say something. Please?”

“I’m seriously losing my fracking mind,” Jensen muttered. Chad shook his head and Jared felt his knees grow weak.

“Chad’s not an actor – he’s a teacher. He’s – he’s my brother.” Jared took two plodding steps over to the kitchen counter and all but collapsed on it. Jared folded himself in half and rested his head on his crossed forearms.

“An actor? Jared, what are you talking about?” Chad wanted to know. He sidled up next to Jared and rubbed his hand on the larger man’s back in big, soothing circles. “Are you really hearing Jensen right now?”

Jared nodded but didn’t lift his head to look at Chad.

“Okay, Jared, we can deal with this. Hey, look at me,” Chad’s voice had become pleading. “First we need to figure out if you’re really hearing something or if something else is going on. I’ll help you, okay? It’ll be alright.”

That did prompt Jared to raise his head and look at Chad. “I just wish you could hear him – prove that I’m not crazy, you know?”

“If anyone’s crazy,” Jensen said, “it’s me. Or maybe you, too, since I’m apparently having hallucinations.”

“I thought you couldn’t see me?” Jared said. “I can’t be a hallucination if you can’t see me.”

“Auditory hallucination, then,” Jensen clarified.

“I’m not a hallucination, Jensen!” Jared bellowed, clearly upset. Chad took a few steps away. “You’re a ghost!” Jared started pacing back and forth, trying to curb the frustration coiling tight in his belly. Fate wouldn’t do this to him, right? Give him Jensen back in this way?

“I’m not dead!” Jensen retorted. “Great, the voice in my head wants me to kill myself.”

“Jared, calm down,” Chad said, stilling Jared with a hand set lightly on his shoulder.

“I’m trying, Chad,” Jared said. “I really am.”

“I know, Jare, I know,” Chad spoke slowly, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal.

“Hey, um, Jared?” Jensen sounds tentative, unsure. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Jared said, softly now. He turned to face Chad. “I’m not crazy. I’ve never heard voices before. So, before we ship me off to a shrink or have me committed, can we maybe try to deal with this as if I’m completely sane?”

Jared heard Jensen scoff, and then footfalls as if Jensen was walking down the hallway towards the bedroom or bathroom. Jared ran a hand through his hair. “Do you really, _really_ not hear that?”

Chad’s expression softened.

“I don’t, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here,” he said, and Jared could see so many of those doubts reflected in Chad’s blue eyes. “Just promise me if whatever we do doesn’t work, you’ll see a doctor.”

Jared nodded. It was more of a concession than he’d expected.

 

***

  
Jared didn’t hear from Jensen for the rest of the evening. Jared didn’t know where ghosts went when they weren’t being disembodied voices, but he thought he had heard footsteps echo Chad’s as Chad left, promising to call out of work the next day and be back first thing in the morning. Jared cleaned up dinner (which was sadly mostly uneaten). He put the leftovers in the fridge and spent the rest of the night watching inane reality shows. Around 10 PM, he decided to call it a night.

For Jared, trying to fall asleep was the second worst part of each day. Jared brushed his teeth and washed his face. Usually he’d exit the bathroom and immediately change into his pajamas, but tonight he stared in the mirror of the bathroom and wondered if he really was hearing Jensen’s ghost, of all things, or if he was crazy. He looked himself in the eyes.

 _I don’t think I look crazy_ , he thought, but then, _do crazy people know they’re crazy? I should ask Misha_. Jared frowned. That actually wasn’t a half bad idea. If anyone would be open to this new level of strangeness in his life, it would be Misha. With his love of theories and conspiracies it would actually make sense to consult with him. Jared made up his mind to visit him either tomorrow or the day after, depending on whether Chad helped him figure any of this out. Somehow, he doubted Chad would be much help.

Jared abandoned the bathroom and changed into his pajamas, turned off the light, slipped between the sheets of his bed and tried to get comfortable. As was his nightly ritual, he rolled over and buried his face in Jensen’s pillow.

There was still the faintest trace of Jensen’s scent there, and Jared wondered how long he had until that, too, faded away. Wondered when he’d stop being able to remember the minute details of Jensen’s face and the way the corners of his eyes would crease when he laughed. He realized with anguish that, until this morning, he could no longer easily bring Jensen’s voice to mind - the soft, gentle tones when he was being tender or the deep, gravelly voice he used when he took control. That voice could send shivers down Jared’s spine and arouse him in an instant; made him willing to do whatever Jensen asked of him.  
Jared had shared so many nights in this bed with Jensen spread out under him, hips thrusting up against his own, eyes glazed over with pleasure and lips bitten red and spit-wet. _So damn sexy_. Jared felt a halfhearted twitch in his pajama pants at the memory, but as usual, nothing came of it. Jared hadn’t bothered jerking off since Jensen was killed. Oh, he still woke up with morning wood, but he just didn’t have the motivation to deal with it and let it go away on its own, or killed it with cold water in the shower.

Jared was nearly asleep when he heard a _very_ familiar sigh and hitch of breath. His eyes shot open and he looked around wildly for the source before memory kicked in. That was Jensen, aroused and touching himself. Jared could picture it in his mind – Jensen, naked, trailing his fingers up the underside of his own cock to tease at the head, his eyes closed as he lost himself in sensation. Jared knew the sounds by heart and hadn’t ever expected to hear it again. He thought, ridiculously, that he didn’t know that ghosts jerked off. Jared’s own cock twitched and he grew half-hard at the memory. He lay there quiet; somehow he knew that if he said anything that the sounds would stop, and he wanted to hear. He _needed_ to hear.

Jared longed to see and touch. Jensen had always been pretty quiet about things when flying solo, unless he was putting on a show – which was usually done by request only. Jared loved to watch Jensen touch himself, bring himself to the brink of orgasm and then ask Jensen to stop touching. Jared would then take over, teasing and touching until Jensen got loud and begged for release, for Jared to fuck him into next week or at least through the mattress.

Jared heard the familiar sound of hands on flesh; soft slapping and quickening breaths. Jared was amazed to feel himself grow fully hard, and before he could help himself he started moving against the bed, seeking friction. He couldn’t stop the groan that escaped his lips and Jared silently cursed when he heard Jensen still.

“Great,” he heard Jensen mutter. There was a soft rustling of fabric which must have been Jensen shifting in the sheets. “My delusion is watching me get off. Jared? Is that you?”

“I can’t see you, Jensen,” Jared said, his mouth twisting up into a wry attempt at a smile. “I can hear you though. You sound so hot, touching yourself like that. Please don’t stop – I haven’t heard you in so long. Please?” Jared’s hips were undulating against the mattress harder now, and he realized it was getting kind of pathetic. He should have just rolled over and took matters in hand, as it were, but he was afraid that if he moved the spell would be broken and he wouldn’t be able to hear Jensen anymore.

“Yeah?” asked Jensen’s ghost, a little breathlessly, as if having Jared listen appealed to his exhibitionist side. “You wanna hear me come? Cause I gotta tell you, I’m close.”

“Yes, please let me hear you come. God, please. What are you thinking about?” Jared’s own voice sounded a little broken and breathless.

“Honestly?” Jensen said, and Jared could hear his amusement. “I was thinking about you. You know, if I’m gonna have delusions, I’m glad they’re hot ones.”

“Delusions? As in plural?” Jared felt jealous and at the same time terrified that there might be other ghosts hanging out in his bedroom, watching him or worse, watching Jensen.

“Well, no, not really,” Jensen said. “You’re the only one I’m talking to and dreaming about and stuff. Do you think I’m schizophrenic?”

“You’re not schizophrenic, Jensen,” Jared said, the jealousy gone. “But I think you’re neglecting something.”

There was a short pause, and then Jared heard Jensen say, “Ah, so I am.” There came that sigh again, and the soft hitch of breath, and Jared knew Jensen was touching himself again. Jared’s own erection, which had started to flag, was suddenly back in full force.

“Louder, Jensen,” Jared demanded, wanting to hear. Jensen moaned a little, and Jared knew it was strictly for his benefit. “God, I wish I could touch you – I know just how to touch you to make you loud. Wish I could _taste_ you.”

Jensen gasped and increased the speed of his strokes. Jared felt his own balls draw up tight and he wondered if he was actually going to come just from listening to Jensen and from the friction he was getting from the bed.

“Yeah, just like that,” Jared said, and Jensen bit off a curse as he came with a cry. Jared’s own release snuck up on him and it was amazing. It was, quite possibly, the most intense orgasm of his life and Jared felt like it wasn’t ever going to stop. He lay on the bed, boneless and panting when a fresh wave of sorrow washed over him.  
Jared was both surprised and horrified to find he was crying, _again goddammit_ , because he may have got to hear Jensen come again, but it was his ghost, his fucking _ghost_. Jensen was dead and never coming back. The tears were silent though, and they soaked into Jensen’s pillow, following the same path as so many tears before them.

In the next moment, Jared was asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

 “The cries of the dead are terrible indeed; you should try not to hear them.”

― Philip K. Dick, _VALIS_

  
 **V.**  


 _Friday, October 25_

  
 _Jared was remarkably comfortable. Jensen lay pressed against him as usual, and Jared kept his eyes shut and just enjoyed feeling Jensen breathing next to him. When he’d fallen asleep, his arms had been wrapped around a cold pillow of questionable cleanliness and now his arms encircled warm, living flesh. Jared made a happy little “mmm” sound and pulled Jensen closer. After a few moments Jared dared to open his eyes and looked down at the man in his arms. Jensen was still flushed from his earlier administrations and Jared had forgotten how gorgeous a post-coital Jensen was._ Is _, Jared corrected in his mind._

 _Light from the window flooded the bedroom window and bathed the room in an early morning glow, despite the fact that Jared knew he’d only just fallen asleep._ I’ve got to be dreaming _, he decided._

 _Jared allowed himself to touch. He trailed his fingers up over Jensen’s chest and then rested his hand against Jensen’s cheek. Leaning over, Jared covered Jensen’s mouth with his own and kissed him gently. Jensen’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled at Jared before his eyes went wide._

 _“Holy shit, you’re here!” he exclaimed as he started to flail. Jensen flopped backwards, away from Jared, until he reached the edge of the bed and went over in a pile of sheets and blankets. Jared stared in amusement as Jensen pulled himself back up just enough to peer over the mattress at Jared._

 _“Ow,” he complained, and then, “Oh wait, that didn’t hurt. I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” Jensen pulled himself up to his knees and looked around. “Yeah, I’m definitely dreaming. It’s the walls.” Jensen pointed at the walls as if this should make perfect sense. Jared looked at the walls, confused._

 _“What’s wrong with the walls?” he asked. Jared squinted at them, just to make sure they weren’t melting or some such nonsense. “Um, the walls look normal, Jen.”  
Jensen wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, don’t call me Jen. Reminds me too much of Jen-Jen.”_

 _“What the hell is Jen-Jen?” Jared wanted to know. Jensen sneered when Jared said the name._

 _“My ex, Jennifer, though it was cute. It wasn’t.”_

 _Jared wondered how dating worked in the afterlife, and felt an incredible rush of jealousy. If Jensen had moved on and was dating all sorts of people, dating_ women _, why was he back here? Why was he haunting Jared? Jensen’s gaze fell on Jared’s expression and he smirked._

 _“Yeah, I thought it sucked too,” he said, “but that’s not the point. Point is, my walls are blue, not grey.”_

 _“Pretty sure we painted them this color when we moved in, Jen,” Jared said, and then winced because Jensen had just asked him not to call him that. Jared pushed himself up into a sitting position and then climbed out of bed. He walked to the other side and extended his hand to help Jensen back to his feet._

 _Jensen accepted the help, grabbing Jared’s hand to gain leverage to pull himself up and still hold the sheets around his middle. Jared’s eyes widened.  
“You sleep in the nude?” Jared asked, amazed. His Jensen would never have slept naked, even after mind-blowing sex. Having a naked Jensen standing in front of him did all sorts of things for Jared’s libido, and he let his eyes travel up and down Jensen’s body. A soft blush appeared on Jensen’s face and started to seep down his neck onto his chest._

 _“Yeah, actually, I do,” he said, clutching the bundle of sheets tighter. “It’s, uh, more comfortable, you know? I’m kind of a restless sleeper and I hate when my pajamas get all twisted up. So, naked, unless my bed partner objects.” Jensen’s expression darkened a bit, and Jared wondered what he was remembering. Certainly Jared wouldn’t have ever objected to Jensen sleeping naked next to him._

 _“God, Jensen,” Jared sighed, unable to stand a naked Jensen in front of him anymore and not touch. He reached out and pulled him close. Jensen gave a small, startled sound and dropped the sheets he’d been holding. Jared wished that he’d had the foresight to sleep naked as well, so he could have felt Jensen against him from chest to hip, skin to skin. Still, it was more than Jared had ever expected to have again and he leaned in and captured Jensen’s mouth with his own._

 _He felt Jensen respond and press closer. Jared tightened his arms and let the kiss overtake his senses. Jensen’s name played itself like a hallelujah chorus on repeat in his mind, until finally he felt Jensen trying to push him away. The heels of Jensen’s hands pressed firmly against Jared’s shoulders and Jared, not being a rapist, allowed him to escape his grasp. Jensen moved back a step._

 _“Jared,” Jensen breathed. He lifted his hands and rested them on Jared’s chest, fingers splayed. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.”_

 _Jared’s stomach twisted up and he felt himself literally deflate. It felt like losing Jensen all over again. His shoulders slumped and his arms dropped to his sides. Despite the state of Jensen’s undress, Jared felt that he was the naked one here. Jensen had just sliced him open from groin to neck and he was exposed. Jared didn’t know what to say._

 _“Jensen, I,” he started, but the words faltered and he turned away._

 _“Hey, wait, Jared,” Jensen said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Hey, um, do I have any clothes here? I kind of feel a little, well, naked.”_

 _Jared shook his head. “No. I gave them all to goodwill a few months back. Chad talked me into it – convinced me that it was part of the moving on process.”_

 _Jared saw Jensen visibly shudder. “Okay, Jared, rule one: Stop talking about me like I’m dead. I’m not dead, and it’s freaking me out.” Jared’s hands physically ached to touch Jensen again, but he knew it would not be welcome and he restrained himself. He could follow Jensen’s rule. After all, it wasn’t like Jared liked to acknowledge that Jensen had been killed. If Jensen wanted to go on as if he were alive, who was Jared to stop him?_

 _Jared bit his lip, logic flying in the face of all he’d just tried to convince himself of. Fact was, Jensen was dead. Dead, buried and up until yesterday resting in peace up in Dallas, as far as Jared knew. He couldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen._

 _“If this is just a dream, couldn’t you just, I don’t know, wish for clothing or something?” Jared asked, and recognized how sad, how defeated his voice sounded._

 _“Good point,” Jensen said. He walked away from Jared to stand next to the wall, and Jared couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering. Jensen had definitely gotten less shy since Jared knew him. It messed with his mind a little. Jensen knocked on the wall three times, good solid knocks and said,” Can I have my apartment please?” Jared wondered who Jensen thought he was talking to, and then, to his amazement, the walls shimmered and changed color. The grey faded and gave way to a soft, pale blue that made Jared feel oddly cold._

 _“What the hell?” Jared asked, looking around. Jensen laughed and opened his closet, but Jared didn’t pay any attention to the clothing that Jensen started pulling on. He was too busy taking in the completely different furnishings that now filled the bedroom. The bed was still king-sized, but it was a completely different style, a four poster bed with classic lines where Jared’s bedroom furniture was a bit more blocky, a bit more homey. It looked like a spread in a home and garden magazine and Jared knew there was no way the Jensen he knew could put together a room like this._

 _His Jensen. This Jensen. Jared realized with a start that he was starting to think of them as two different people and astonishingly, that made it hurt a little less. Jared turned his attention to Jensen_

 _“Maybe you should take a picture,” Jensen muttered over his shoulder in the direction Jared was standing._

 _“Oh, I have pictures,” Jared smirked, remembering the one time he’d convinced Jensen to shed both clothes and inhibitions for a private photo shoot using Jared’s digital camera. There may or may not have been quite a bit of alcohol involved._

 _“What – what kind of pictures?” Jensen asked, his eyes wide and his mouth going a little slack. Jared couldn’t resist. He walked over to Jensen and wrapped his arms around Jensen’s middle. Impulsively, Jared leaned in and kissed Jensen again. Once again, Jensen started to reciprocate the kiss before pulling away._

 _“You can’t just kiss me like that, Jared,” Jensen said, sounding both perplexed and aggravated. His eyes darted back and forth, like he expected Jared to get angry.  
“Yeah, okay,” Jared said, his voice soft. “I know, you don’t know me. God, it must be like kissing a stranger.”_

 _“It’s not,” Jensen said quickly. “It’s not at all like kissing a stranger, but it should be. Just, take it slow, Jared. I don’t understand what’s going on here, or why you think you know me. I don’t know why my subconscious is fucking with me like this.”_

 _“Jensen, I’m not a delusion or a hallucination,” Jared said. “Rule number two: You have to stop referring to me as if I’m some sort of mental breakdown. I’m not. Chad’s coming by tomorrow. We’re going to get this worked out, okay?”_

 _“Yeah, you and Chad Michael Murray, the actor,” Jensen’s voice bordered on incredulous._

 _“Chad’s not an actor,” Jared chuckled. “I mean, yeah, he thought about heading out to Los Angeles after he graduated high school but his Mom and Dad talked him into going to school first. He’s a kindergarten teacher now. I think he does a great job of it mainly because he and those kids have the same mentality. Where did you go tonight?”_

 _“Go?” Jensen asked, obviously confused by the change of subject. Jared nodded._

 _“Yeah, after our conversation – it felt like you left.”_

 _“Oh, yeah, I went to the library,” Jensen said, and actually looked guilty for it. “Jared, I don’t want to break rule number two, but I looked up what could cause auditory hallucinations and strange dreams.”_

 _Jared’s eyes narrowed. “And? What did you find out?”_

 _Jensen rolled his eyes. “Nothing good. Nothing I think I have. I don’t really think I’m going mad, but there you are.” Jensen’s eyes seemed focused on Jared’s mouth, and when Jared licked his lips, Jensen’s eyes went just a little dark. Jared was just about to ask if he could kiss Jensen again when Jensen asked a question._

 _“How do you know me, Jared? Assuming I’m not imagining you. You say I’m your husband, but how?”_

 _Jared reached out and grabbed Jensen’s hand. “I don’t know if this will work, but I can try and show you how we met. You were working at Voltage Village up by Braker Lane. That’s where I met you.”_

 _“Voltage Village?” Jensen raised an eyebrow and Jared had to stifle a grin. “What the hell is Voltage Village?”_

 _“You don’t remember Voltage Village?” Jared asked, amazed. Apparently Jensen didn’t remember much of anything about his life. Jared hoped to rectify that. Maybe then Jensen could go into the light, and Jared would be magically better. He’d always love Jensen, he knew that, but maybe he could go on living as if the best part of himself hadn’t died on a cold tile floor one year ago. Jared shook his head. Now was not the time for thoughts like that. Right now he had to help Jensen._

 _“Voltage Village – well it’s not there anymore. They went out of business a couple of years ago. You worked there until the store closed.”_

 _“Really? Was it when I was in college?” Jensen sounded amused by the entire conversation, but Jared was confused._

 _“Jensen, you didn’t go to college,” he said._

 _“Pretty sure I did,” Jensen said, sounding a little irritated and more than a little sarcastic. “Otherwise my clients aren’t going to be too happy once they find out."_

 _“Clients? What do you do?”_

 _“I’m a freelance architect,” Jensen said. “Well, hopefully not freelance for too long but for now, I’m freelancing."_

 _“That’s awesome,” Jared said with a wide grin. He hoped it hid the sudden stab in his gut. It was hard to imagine his Jensen going to college, graduating and doing something with his degree. His Jensen had wanted to, and had tried many times to go to school or hold down a job, but in the end he just couldn’t do either for much longer than six months at a time. He’d wanted to do something artistic and had always been fascinated by architecture, but for some reason he just couldn’t stick with it. Jared had tried to convince Jensen to get tested for Attention Deficit Disorder, but Jensen had stubbornly refused. And now, somehow, Jensen had achieved in his afterlife what he could never achieve in life. It struck Jared as cosmically unfair._

 _He looked at Jensen then, and started to wonder if this was really his Jensen at all. He had to be, didn’t he? He talked and moved the same. He still looked out at the world from those arresting green eyes; still had the same freckles lightly dotting his skin. But there were differences as well. This Jensen seemed more comfortable in his skin and moved with just a touch more confidence._

 _“Um, Jared,” Jensen said, lifting a hand and rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re kind of staring at me again.”_

 _“Sorry,” Jared said, purposefully averting his eyes. Jensen laughed._

 _“You can look at me, Jared,” he said. “It’s just weird when you start staring.” And then, completely unexpectedly, Jared felt Jensen press his lips to his. It was chaste and over quick, and when Jared settled wide eyes on Jensen, he saw that Jensen looked unsure._

 _“Sorry,” Jensen said. “I don’t know why I did that. I just wanted to, I guess. Kind of hypocritical, after rule number one-“_

 _“Okay, rule number three,” Jared interrupted with a smile that felt like his face was going to split in half, “you can kiss me whenever you want to.”_

 _“I like that rule,” Jensen said, and leaned in for another dry, quick kiss. “Now, I think you wanted to show me something.” Jensen’s voice hit that low rumble that settled deep in Jared’s belly and he only wanted to show Jensen to the bed, but he steeled his resolve._

 _“Yeah, um, I did,” Jared managed. He stood there for a moment, thinking, and then decided that if it worked for Jensen it should work for him. He walked over to the wall and knocked on it three times. “Um, Voltage Village, when we met please?” Jared felt his face grow hot in embarrassment, because if nothing happened-  
The scenery shifted and changed like watercolors in rain, and Jared found himself standing in the parking lot of Voltage Village next to Jensen. Jared was still in his pajamas, but he figured since it was a dream it really didn’t matter. His breath caught when he saw himself a few yards away, getting out of his SUV and walking toward the store. He blinked and then felt something tug on him, pulling him toward that other self. He felt his limbs stretch and elongate and before he could plant his feet and refuse to move he was sucked into his other self, and it was August of 2006, and Jared’s life was about to change._

 

***

  
 _(August, 2006)_

  
Jared stepped out of his SUV and pulled his shades on. He grinned, feeling stupidly like the detectives in those ridiculous cop shows. The Texas sun was brutal and he felt sweat prickle his skin almost instantly. He wiped his hands on his jeans and hurried toward the sliding glass doors of the store and the beautiful, glorious air conditioning that waited inside. He’d parked further away from the store than he’d liked, but it had been under a tree and in Texas in summer, shade was prime real estate. He only hoped he wouldn’t return to a car covered in bird crap, because that was one of the only drawbacks of parking in the shade. It was a risk he was willing to take.

Jared breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped inside the building that housed Voltage Village. It wasn’t a great electronics and music store, but it was the one closest to his job and Jared was on his lunch break. Looking around, Jared saw that he was one of maybe three customers in the store. He headed for the music section. Mom’s birthday was coming up and he wanted to get her something to add to her music collection. She hadn’t jumped on the digital music trend (yet) and so Jared was stuck buying an actual CD for her. Jared stopped in front of the section labeled _Adult Contemporary_ and tried to figure out if that meant easy listening or elevator music or what.

He must have been staring a while when he heard a soft, “Excuse me Sir, can I help you find something?” Jared turned around and smiled shyly, but then he froze when he saw the person standing there offering help. His name tag said _Jensen_ with gold lettering on a black background that stood out against the silly blue Voltage Village polo shirt he wore, but what caught Jared’s attention were his eyes and the delicious sprinkling of caramel colored freckles across the bridge of his nose. Jared wanted to lick them, count them, just _anything_ them, really. He was surprised at himself. Jared couldn’t remember having such an intense initial reaction to anyone, and he determined then and there that if there was even a chance that Jensen was available, was gay, he was going to have him.

“Do you have Paul Simon’s latest release? Am I even in the right section?” Jared asked. He waved at the selection of CDs in front of him disinterestedly. Jensen smiled as if he was trying not to, and Jared noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly. God, Jensen took his breath away. Jensen looked Jared up and down.

“Paul Simon huh? Wouldn’t have pegged you for a fan. Neil Diamond – maybe, but not Paul Simon.”

Jared’s face flamed red, or at least felt as if it did. “Um, it’s for my Mom, actually. Her birthday.”

Jensen laughed and Jared thought he could fall in love with a laugh like that. It took It took two minutes for Jensen to point Jared in the right direction and walk away, leaving Jared to stare at his options. He pulled the slip of paper he’d written the album title on and thumbed through the CDS only to discover that Voltage Village, surprise surprise, didn’t have the one CD he was looking for.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

“Don’t have it, huh?” Jensen asked. Startled, Jared turned to face the man he’d seen walk away. Jared shook his head, trying to find his words.

“Okay, don’t tell anyone I referred you elsewhere,” Jensen said, his voice lowered to almost a whisper. “But check out Waterloo Records, down on Sixth and Lamar. They are awesome and have pretty much anything you could think of, ever.”

“Jensen, boss wants to talk to you,” a short employee with not much hair but a lot of eyebrows peered around the corner at Jensen, his expression intense. Jensen’s lips pursed and he shot Jared an apologetic shrug for the interruption as he walked away.

Jared hadn’t heard of Waterloo Records but made a note to check it out. Just in case, though, he grabbed a Paul Simon CD he was pretty sure his mom didn’t have (he hoped) and walked to the register. He looked down at the CD in his hand and then around the store to see if he could see Jensen. He wanted to thank him for his help – well, actually, Jared wanted to ask Jensen to coffee or dinner or a lifetime together. _Ah ha, there he is!_ Jared thought when he finally spotted him.

Jensen stood by an endcap of DVDs, his arms crossed defensively over his chest and his mouth tightened into a small, thin line as someone, probably his boss, lit into him in front of God and everybody.

“How many breaks have you taken today, Jensen?” the supervisor snarled. “Chelsea said she saw you disappear out the back ten minutes ago and that you just got back. Have you helped anyone today? Have you done anything?”

Jared was going to mind his own business, really he was, but then he looked at the cashier. Her name tag said Chelsea and she hadn’t even noticed Jared standing there with his purchase, as her attention was focused on the scene between Jensen and his manager. Her eyes were narrowed and she had a self-satisfied smirk on her face. Well, Jared wasn’t going to let this continue. It was rather weird to feel such a protective urge for a complete stranger, especially one who looked like he could take care of himself fairly easily. He wasn’t about to go over there and further embarrass Jensen.

“Hey, excuse me miss?” Jared rapped his knuckles on the counter, startling the cashier.

“Oh, sorry,” she said with a wide smile. “I guess I was daydreaming.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Jared said without amusement. Last time he’d checked, daydreaming didn’t include watching your co-worker get bitched out by his squirrelly looking boss. Or maybe it did, if that was your thing, but still. . .

“Hey, do you have any of those customer feedback forms?” Jared asked with a smile. He didn’t turn his head towards the argument that was still going on over by the endcap, where Jensen had started to quietly defend himself, judging from the hand-waving he could see out of his peripheral vision.

“Um, sure,” Chelsea sounded uncertain. “Did you want one?” She took the CD from Jared and rang it up.

“Yes please,” he said.

“That’ll be $16.33,” Chelsea said, and Jared held out his Mastercard to pay for it. Instead of taking Jared’s payment, Chelsea squatted down and started digging around under the register. She emerged with what looked like a greeting card decorated with Voltage Village’s trademark lightning bolt on the front. She dropped it on the counter and grabbed Jared’s credit card, finishing the transaction in a few seconds.

“Do you want a bag?” she asked. She sounded bored, but Jared couldn’t help noticing her eyes kept flitting over to the feedback form.

“No thanks,” said Jared. The discussion over at the endcap had ended and neither Jensen nor his supervisor was there any longer. Jared checked his watch and debated going to find Jensen and ask him out but he only had ten minutes before he had to be back at his desk and clocked in, so it would have to wait until next time. He picked up the CD and the feedback form. “Where do I put this once I fill it out? Is there a like a suggestion box, or something?”

Chelsea pursed her lips and pointed over by the sliding glass doors of the entrance. Apparently, now that Jared was done being a customer and quite possibly about to write something negative about her, pointing was all he deserved. Jared resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he started to walk away.

“Oh, do you have a pen I could-“ Jared didn’t catch the ballpoint that went sailing past his head. His eyebrows reached for his hairline as he bent down to pick it up.  
“Okay,” he said. “Noted.”

 

***

  
 _Jared snapped back out of his former self and looked over to see Jensen standing next to him, looking equally shell-shocked. They were back in Jared’s bedroom and once again, Voltage Village was a thing of the past._

 _“What just happened?” Jensen asked, turning wide eyes on Jared._

 _“That’s how we met, Jensen,” Jared said wistfully. “I didn’t know that was going to happen. I just wanted to show you.”_

 _“That’s how we met? But it’s so . . . normal. I mean, I kind of expected you to rescue me from a burning, runaway train or something.”_

 _“A burning runaway train?” Jared laughed. “No, sorry. I’m not that brave. Or a secret agent.” `_

 _“That was so bizarre, though,” Jensen said. “That never happened to me, but I could see it as though it were. God, Mark was such a douchebag!”_

 _“Your supervisor,” Jared agreed. “Don’t worry, he had to give you a lightning bolt bonus for my awesome review I wrote for you.”_

 _“A lightning bolt bonus? That’s really – lame,” Jensen laughed. “That was sweet of you though, Jared.” Jensen licked his lips. “Doesn't make any damn sense though.”_

 _“What, me falling for you at first sight or me filling out that stupid form?” Jared was unsure._

 _“Everything, all of this,” Jensen waved an arm around, encompassing the scenery which had, at some point, faded back into Jared’s bedroom back at his apartment. “So how long did it take you to actually ask me out? Did I say yes right away? Can you show me more?”_

 _“One thing at a time!” Jared said, smiling. “I’ll show you everything, if you like.”_

 _Jared saw Jensen’s eyes darken just a little and they seemed to flit down Jared’s body and back up. “Does rule three still apply?” Jensen asked._

 _“Oh, most definitely,” Jared said._

 _“I don’t know why I want to kiss you,” Jensen said as he backed Jared towards the bed. “But I do. So much. So fuck it, I’m gonna. And I hope you’re okay with that.”  
Jared’s legs hit the side of the bed and he fell into a sitting position. Jensen leaned over and claimed him, and this time it wasn’t hesitant. Jensen’s mouth thoroughly owned Jared’s, his tongue sliding in between Jared’s lips and exploring the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. Jared couldn’t stop the breathy moan that escaped as he exhaled, and Jensen gave a small, satisfied rumble of his own in response._

 _Jared felt fingers thread through his hair and tighten their grasp, deepening the kiss and then-_

 _Everything started to fade._

 _“No!” Jared protested, but it did no good. The dream continued to fade, and the next thing Jared knew, it was morning._

 

  
***

  
The pounding on the door was what roused Jared from slumber. He barely had time to blink away the sleep from his eyes before he heard the unmistakable sound of Chad letting himself into the apartment. As Jared forced himself to throw back the bedclothes and sit up, he realized he couldn’t remember if he’d dreamt last night. Then, in a rush, it all came back to him and he felt dizzy. He could still feel Jensen’s kisses on his lips as if they’d happened in the real world and not just his dreamscapes. He lifted his hand and traced his lips with a finger. He yawned then, just as Chad found his way into Jared’s bedroom.

“Hey Jare, you still in bed? Huh. Anyway, any ghost activity this morning? You know, things flying around your head or unexplained voices?”

“Fuck off, Chad,” Jared groaned, collapsing back on the bed with his hands over his eyes.

“No need to be rude,” Chad admonished him. He held up a nondescript white paper bag that had grease stains on the lower half. “I even brought breakfast so we’d have some sustenance while we looked stuff up. Figured we could try the good ol’ internet and then if we have to, the library. Then, maybe, we could try a priest or something to come exorcise the place. I mean, even if it is Jensen’s ghost, you don’t really want to live in a haunted apartment do you? You want to help him move on and all that crap, right?”

“Oh God,” Jared sighed. “It’s too early to deal with you. Get out. Let me take a shower and get dressed. You know what? You’re lucky I don’t sleep naked.”

Chad wrinkled his nose. “Ew. Thank God for small favors. Hurry up. I’ll save your breakfast.”

Jared gave a small laugh as Chad left his bedroom to allow Jared his morning rituals. Jared hurried through them and then joined Chad at the kitchen table for breakfast. Sitting down, he tipped the bag over to discover donuts inside.

“These are all mine, right?” Jared joked, pretending to scoot the bag out of Chad’s reach.

“Yeah, not so much,” Chad said, grabbing the bad and pulling it back toward himself. His mirth left his face though, and he sat looking at Jared appraisingly. His expression grew darker and more troubled.

“Jared, you look really happy,” Chad said. His eyes kind of squinted and his brow furrowed. Jared wondered when his life had warped so much that him seeming happy was a bad thing, or at least cause for suspicion.

“I uh, I dreamed about him last night again,” Jared said with a sigh. “I showed him how we met.”

“Runaway train, on fire,” came a voice, and Jared sat upright in his chair. He smiled before he could stop himself.

“Hey, earth to Jared,” Chad said, snapping his fingers close to Jared’s face. “You hearing him now?”

“Yeah, I am,” Jared said.

“You’re what? Running away? On fire?” Jensen asked, sounding sleepy.

“Hearing you,” Jared explained.

“Oh,” Jensen said. “You got company?”

“Yeah, Chad’s here.”

“Ah,” Jensen said. Jared heard the refrigerator open but didn’t bother looking into the kitchen to see if his had actually opened. “Tell him I said hi, I guess.”

“Jensen says hi,” Jared said to Chad, who looked taken aback.

“It’s really damn weird to see you talking to yourself like that,” Chad said, holding up his hand to indicate he wasn’t finished talking when he saw Jared open his mouth. “I’m not saying you’re talking to yourself, just that it looks like you are. Go get your laptop. I’m not going to be the only one who’s researching crap over here.”

“Sir yes sir,” Jared muttered, standing up and taking his donut with him.

“Hey, the apple fritter was mine!” Chad complained. He made a grab for it, which from his seated position was highly ineffectual.

“Mine now,” Jared gloated.

“You suck, Padalecki,”

Jared grinned. As he turned to go get his laptop, he heard Jensen call out a goodbye.

“I’m off to work, Jared. See you – um, I guess I’ll hear you later?”

“Yeah,” Jared said and his grin widened. “Definitely.”

“Jared,” Chad said, fixing Jared with an sad stare. “Jare, you can’t keep him.”

Jared felt his smile fall and he stared at the floor, suddenly very interested in the grain of the hardwood.

“Yeah, Chad, I know,” he said. “I know.”

 

  
***

  
“Okay,” said Chad, a couple of hours later. Jared shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His ass was starting to hurt and he regretted not taking this to the couch. Jared, discontent with what he had found online in the way of ghost banishment, had started looking up what hearing voices could be a symptom of. So far, he’d found nothing good. Jared was more than happy to turn his attention to Chad.

“Did you find something?” he asked. Chad nodded.

“Um, sort of. Have you tried asking him to leave?”

“You want me to tell Jensen to go into the light? He won’t. He doesn’t believe he’s dead. You know, he didn’t even remember working at Voltage Village.”

Chad shrugged. “I’d probably _try_ to block that out if I’d had to work at that shithole,” he said with a smirk. Jared didn’t feel like that necessitated a reply.

“Alright,” Chad said. “Jensen says he’s not a ghost, and I found a checklist to check for ghostly activity. Say yes or no to these, okay?” Chad then proceeded to rattle off a list of phenomenon usually associated with ghosts, including cold spots, electrical disturbances and random noises. Except for that last one, Jared answered no to all of them.

“What if he’s not a ghost?” Chad asked. Jared shot him a look.

“What else could he be, Chad?” Jared inquired. “We both know that Jensen died. No, he has to be a ghost.”

“Fair enough,” Chad responded. “Hey, this website says the only sure way to make a ghost move on is to dig up the body, salt it, and burn it.”

Jared’s eyes widened in horror. “I’m not driving to Dallas, desecrating my husband’s grave so I can salt and burn his body. Jesus. That’s – that’s . . . “ Jared couldn’t think of appropriately awful words to complete his train of thought.

“You’re right,” Chad said, dismissing the idea. “That sounds too much like one of Dad’s weekend barbecues.”

“Okay, that’s really fucking gross, Chad,” Jared hissed. “I’m never eating your dad’s barbecue again.”

“You’re such a liar, Jare,” Chad said. “You love his barbecue. You love it enough to put up with him for it.”

Jared smiled; it was true. His foster father might be a pain in the ass, but his barbecue was the best Jared had ever had.

“Hey, here’s something that sounds kind of legit,” Chad said, pointing at the laptop screen as if Jared could see it. “Sage. So, apparently you burn it and it’s supposed to cleanse your place of spirits and negativity. Hey, it’s a plant. Do you think your flower guy-“

“Florist,” Jared corrected.

“Whatever,” Chad said with a shrug. “Do you think he’d have sage?”

“I dunno, maybe,” Jared replied. He’d wanted to talk to Misha about all this anyway. “I’ll go check. I kind of want to get some fresh air anyway.”

Jared grabbed his coat and his wallet. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Chad agreed, leaning closer to the monitor of his laptop. “Bring back lunch since I sprang for breakfast.”

Jared agreed to the terms by waving his hand as he exited his apartment.

 

  
***

  
“Hey Misha,” Jared called as he entered the flower shop. As usual, Misha was leaning over his counter, engrossed in an issue of Mental Floss.

“Jared!” Misha’s grin lit up the entire store and Jared smiled in return. Perhaps this was the reason he kept coming back. Misha had a way about him that always made Jared feel better. “What can I get for you today? Today doesn’t seem like a buy flowers type of day for you. Well, for everyone else, maybe – I’ve been really busy!”

Jared looked around the empty shop and tried not to be skeptical. Misha caught the look and shot a mock glare at him.

“Okay, maybe I’m not busy right this moment,” he countered. “But I have been busier than usual this morning.”

Jared wished he could be a bit more enthusiastic for his friend’s increase in business, but it was October and Halloween wasn’t exactly known for its floral prowess. So, lacking any theories on why Misha’s business would suddenly pick up, Jared just shrugged.

“Do you sell sage here, Misha?” he asked after a beat of silence. Misha’s brow furrowed.

“Sage – like the seasoning?” Misha seemed perplexed.

“Yes,” Jared said. “Well, no. Not exactly. I meant like little dried bundles that I could burn. Chad says-“

“You’re listening to Chad?” Misha interrupted. “What would Chad want with sage?”

“Um,” Jared wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. “Chad thinks I should sage my apartment. Get rid of negative energy; help me move on, things like that.”

Misha arched an eyebrow. “While I actually think that’s not a half bad idea, I don’t actually sell sage here. You’re better off checking at Whole Foods or Central Market – maybe check out one of those new-agey shops down south.”

“Oh,” Jared said, disappointed. “Okay. Thanks.” Jared knew that was kind of his cue to leave, as a customer at least. He kicked his shoe on the concrete floor of the shop, scuffing his foot around in the dust. Apparently, what with it being a florist shop, Misha wasn’t adverse to it having a fine layer of soil on the floor.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Misha said, reaching under the counter. “I happen to have a bundle here. Unused, of course. I’ll let you have it if you tell me what’s on your mind. Something’s bothering you, I can tell. I’ll even close up for a few minutes so you can vent.”

Misha didn’t wait for Jared to agree to the deal. He walked over to the door and flipped the sign to closed. He locked the door, and then indicated that Jared should follow him to his office. Jared did, and found himself seated on a couch that, while incredibly comfortable, had definitely seen better days. Jared supposed that in its prime it had been cream-colored microfiber, now it was dull beige that was shiny in spots and sagged in others. Still, it was comfortable, and Jared leaned back.  
“Alright, spill,” Misha insisted. Jared took a deep breath.

“Okay, I guess there’s no easy way to ask this,” Jared said. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“I love ghost stories,” Misha grinned, all eagerness. “In fact I read this one story online about this guy who died while he was masturbating and his ghost – “

Jared grimaced and held up a hand. “Please, for the love of God, don’t tell me anymore about that.” Misha laughed and Jared thought he heard Misha mutter prude under his breath as he exhaled. When Misha remained silent, Jared continued.

“Okay, now what I have to say sounds almost normal,” Jared said. “I’m hearing things in my apartment. Like, ghostly-type things. And I’ve been having weird dreams.”  
Misha leaned forward, intent on Jared’s words.

“You think you’re being haunted,” Misha said. It wasn’t a question. “Tell me.”

“Well, to be frank, I’m hearing Jensen,” Jared admitted. Misha leaned back. “I dreamed about him too. Two nights in a row, actually.”

“And you’re trying to get rid of him? Why?”

Jared was at a loss for words for a minute. Why, indeed? Chad’s voice popped up in his mind, phantom-like.

 _“Jare, you can’t keep him.”_

Jared knew it was true. He knew why it was true, too, but he was having a hard time verbalizing it. Verbalizing it would make it so, irrevocably.

“Well, he’s a ghost, Misha,” Jared finally said. “It can’t be healthy for him to be hanging out in the apartment. Doesn’t he need to go, I don’t know, into the light or something?”

Misha shrugged. “Maybe, if it is a ghost. Who knows?”

“Great, you think I’m crazy,” Jared said. “Chad thinks I am too. He’s just playing along long enough for me to realize it myself.”

“Jared,” Misha said, resting his hand on Jared’s knee. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I swear I don’t. If you say you’re hearing Jensen, then I believe you’re hearing Jensen. Did you say you were dreaming about him too? That’s good.”

“Good,” Jared echoed, amazed at Misha. “Why would that be good?”

“For now, I mean,” Misha said. “It’s good for now.”

“I think I need to help him,” Jared said. “Maybe he has unfinished business. Or – or maybe I have unfinished business.”

“You’re not a ghost, Jared,” Misha stated gently.

“Um, I know that,” Jared intoned. “Look, I mean, maybe he saw that I wasn’t moving on and that’s why he’s here now.”

Misha didn’t say anything, and the two men sat in silence for a little while, each lost in their own thoughts. Jared looked over at Misha – took in his concerned blue eyes, his careworn expression and realized, perhaps for the first time, that Misha was actually a very attractive man. Jared wondered, _Maybe this is what I need to move on. Maybe Misha’s so kind to me because-_

Before he could change his mind, Jared surged forward and caught Misha’s mouth with his own, feeling plush lips part in surprise as Jared claimed them. For an instant, he felt what might be Misha responding, but no, it was Misha planting firm hands on Jared’s chest and pushing him ever so slowly away.

“Jared-“

“Misha-“

They stared at each other for a long moment, searching for answers in each other’s eyes, blue conversing with hazel where words weren’t sufficient. Jared watched Misha deflate a little, and he knew, he knew he made a mistake.

“No, Jared, that’s not supposed to happen,” Misha said quietly. “This wasn’t my intention at all.”

“I know, I shouldn’t have. . .” Jared’s words died slowly and he backed away, until he felt the arm of the couch dig into his back. “I’m sorry, I should go. Yeah, I have to go.” And with that Jared pushed himself up off the couch and headed for the door, brushing against flowers as he passed; Jared’s escaped marked in falling petals.

“Jared, wait,” Misha called. His usual calm was gone, and it was such a strange thing that Jared stopped in his tracks. Turning, he faced Misha, his embarrassment stinging on his cheeks and in his eyes.

“Jared, I’m sorry,” Misha breathed, slightly winded from rushing after. “I never meant to make you think – in any case, I’m not what you need.”

Jared threaded both hands through his hair in frustration at himself. He wanted to get away. He wanted to run and hide and never see Misha again, because Jared knew he had fucked it all up now, and Misha wouldn’t want to sell him flowers or talk about his theories and _oh, God, he’s probably straight, too_.

“Jesus, Jared, it’s okay,” said Misha, and Jared must have been thinking too loud again, or perhaps inadvertently vocalizing his thoughts.

“You’re my friend, Jared. I care about you, deeply. Just not, you know, like that. Please don’t let it make things awkward between us.” Misha sounded so dejected, and yet so hopeful that Jared found himself nodding.

“I think we’re already there,” Jared replied. Misha threw his head back and laughed, and just like that, the awkwardness fled.

“Yes, a little bit,” Misha said finally. He fished something out of his pocket, and Jared realized it was the little bundle of sage Misha had promised to give him. Misha set it in Jared’s hand and closed Jared’s fingers around it.

“Go ahead and sage your apartment, Jared,” Misha said. “And good luck.”

“Thanks, Mish,” Jared replied. Misha reached around Jared and unlocked the door. After the kiss, it was a little uncomfortably close, but Jared resisted the urge to move away.

“Hey Jared,” Misha said, “as a friend, feel free to stop by whenever you want, okay? I’m always up for a good chat. Especially if it’s about ghosts.”

“Or aliens,” Jared said with a smile. Misha’s answering smile was blinding.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Or aliens.”


	6. Chapter 6

 

“The past is a ghost, the future a dream and all we ever have is now.”  
-Bill Cosby

  
 **VI.**  


  
 _Jensen was meandering about the store, finding busywork to do whenever he saw a co-worker or his manager, but mostly he was just bored. Rumors had been flitting around the store for a couple of weeks now that the entire chain of stores was going under. Those rumors were whispered from employee to employee and Jensen had witnessed firsthand how the store had been struggling to adjust to the changing landscape of the digital age. In his six months of employment at Voltage Village the CD section shrunk from taking up a good half of the store to a single aisle of discs – usually just the most recent releases of the most popular artists._

  
 _This last week, though, the rumors had been spreading like wildfire and the stress of not knowing was beginning to wear on every employee. The regional manager, a Mr. Sutherland, had even paid the store a visit, puttering about with a notebook in hand and asking questions he didn’t really seem to want the answers to._  
Jensen paused and looked around the store. There were maybe three customers, tops, and that wasn’t good for early afternoon on a Saturday.

 _“Excuse me?”_

 _Jensen turned, fake smile on his lips and ready to answer whatever inane question the customer was about to ask. The smile faltered when Jensen found himself looking up at the customer; not a usual occurrence since Jensen himself stood over six feet. The customer smiled brightly at him, dimples out in full force. Jensen felt a bit like an ant under a magnifying glass at having a smile of that magnitude directed at him._

 _“Can I help you?” Jensen managed._

 _“Well, I just wanted to say thank you,” the customer said, and suddenly Jensen remembered him. He’d been in here last week looking for a CD for his mom’s birthday and Jensen . . . hadn’t been able to help him. Jensen frowned as he remembered that as the day that his rat fink boss, Mark, had decided to chew him out in the front of the store for something he hadn’t even done._

 _“Thank me? We didn’t have the CD you were looking for,” Jensen was confused. He remembered feeling confused the last time he had to deal with this tall drink of water, too; out of his element. Of course, it didn’t help that he found the guy ridiculously attractive (not to mention ridiculously out of his league). When the customer had been here last, he’d been dressed in a nice suit which accentuated the breadth of his shoulders and narrowness of his hips, but today he was dressed in too long jeans (and how did this guy manage to find jeans that not only reached the floor, but pooled around his shoes?), and a soft-looking v-neck shirt._

 _“No, but you told me to look at Waterloo Records, and dude, that place is awesome. Thank you so much. I think I spent two thirds of my paycheck there, and they had the Paul Simon CD I was looking for! So, thanks. I owe you one.”_

 _Jensen smoothed a hand down the front of his stupid blue Voltage Village polo, noticing not for the first time how the bright white lightning bolt on the front with its two hovering ‘V’s looked like a percentage sign. A moment passed, and things started to get awkward between them._

 _“You’re welcome,” Jensen said, looking at the guy’s tousled chestnut hair and imagining what it would be like to run his fingers through it. “I mean, you don’t have to thank me, and you certainly don’t owe me anything, um –“_

 _“I’m Jared,” the guy said, his smile widening impossibly. His eyes darted down to the name tag on Jensen’s chest. “Jensen, huh? That your first name or do you go by your last name? And yeah, I do owe you.” The man’s gaze darkened almost imperceptibly. “Let me buy you dinner?” There was also the implied “unless you’re straight” and Jared’s smile dampened a bit, as if he expected to get shot down or maybe punched._

 _Jensen smiled shyly and looked down at his feet, because there was just no way God loved him enough to make this guy not only gay but interested in Jensen. Jensen lifted his eyes back up to Jared’s face; took in his open, eager face and his hopeful expression, and Jensen wanted him. The realization was like a punch in the gut._  
Say yes! _His brain screamed at him, but instead Jensen answered with:”I can’t.”_

 _Jared’s face fell. “Why not? No, never mind, none of my business, sorry.” Jared’s words were a little breathy. He sounded genuinely disappointed. “You said no, and last I checked, no still meant no.” He gave a little laugh and turned to leave. Jensen felt like an ass. He wasn’t seeing anyone right now. It wasn’t like he’d seen anyone in the past six months. It was just – well, he’d thought this thing with Jason had been going somewhere. All the signs had been there. Jason had been talking of moving in together and Jensen had been up to Lampasas on more than one occasion to meet and hang out with Jason’s family. And then, Jason had graduated with a degree in liberal arts and took off for Los Angeles the next day after a round of goodbye sex with Jensen that Jensen hadn’t known was goodbye sex until he found the note the next morning._

 _It had hurt, and led to a new entry in Jensen’s Dating Rules – “no college guys”. The next rule that got added shortly thereafter was “no casual sex / one night stands”, because it reminded Jensen too much of goodbye sex. The nights were good, full of panting, thrusting bodies, but it was the cold, lonely, empty mornings after that Jensen couldn’t stand. So no casual sex, and looking at Jared, someone so entirely out of his range, Jensen knew that hooking up with him would be entirely casual. Guys like Jared liked Jensen’s pretty face and his talents in the bedroom, but Jensen didn’t have the college credentials or the impressive job that deemed him_ “relationship material” _._

 _“Look, Jared,” Jensen finally said after he’d mulled all of that over. Looking up, he realized Jared wasn’t there anymore. “Fuck.” Jensen looked around the store frantically. He really needed to remember that time passed when he got lost in his own head like that. Jensen finally saw him, heading out the automatic doors at the front of the store. Jensen broke into an easy jog – the last thing he wanted to have happen was Mark to waylay him for running in the store. He caught up with Jared outside the store. The sudden change in temperature from inside the store to the August heat stole Jensen’s breath. The heat soaked through the weave of Jensen’s shirt, reminding him that he’d rather be at the lake or by a pool – anywhere except Voltage Village, place of employment._

 _“Jared,” Jensen called, and Jared turned around. He looked surprised to see Jensen there – and maybe a little hopeful. “Jensen’s my first name.” That was not what Jensen meant to say, and he mentally berated himself for being stupid, again._

 _Jared’s eyes widened just a little and his hand lifted like he wanted to touch Jensen. That hand was immediately stuffed into one of Jared’s pockets almost as if it was a bad child being put on time out. “I’m sorry if I came across stalker-ish,” Jared said, his tone apologetic. “Really, I just wanted to take you out for dinner. Lunch even, if that’s okay. Unless – unless you’re seeing someone?”_

 _“Nah, single,” Jensen said, nonchalant, like it didn’t matter. Like he’d be single even if he’d been given a choice in the matter. Like Jason leaving hadn’t ripped out Jensen’s heart and ran it over with his motorcycle. “But here’s the thing, Jared. I know I’m jumping the gun here, but I really should let you know right off that I don’t do casual.”_

 _“I don’t really do casual either, Jensen,” Jared responded, and that hopeful light is back in his eyes. “I’d really like to take you out to dinner. I’d really like to get to know you? Will you let me?“_

 _Against his better judgment, Jensen said yes._

 

***

  
 _Friday, October 25_

  
Jensen jerked awake and looked blearily around the cubicle he’d been assigned to for the day. Being freelance meant he had to use whichever computer was available, and today the only available computer was the one coined _‘The Dinosaur’_ by the employees at the architectural firm. Personally, Jensen wanted to pull a move from the movie ‘ _Office Space_ ’ and take a baseball bat to it. Still, it managed to run the autoCAD software, if barely, and so it was deemed functional. This computer was probably top of the line back when Britney had released her first single.

He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep in front of the computer and hoped he hadn’t been out long enough for anyone to notice. Jensen couldn’t focus. He rolled back in his chair, scooted forward and then rolled back again. He ran a hand though his close-cropped hair and, bleary eyed, he squinted at the computer screen. Usually, an empty autoCAD interface drew Jensen in, made him want to play with shapes and form and balance, but today it just wasn’t happening. He blamed Jared. Yeah, he knew it was like blaming himself anyway since Jared was a dream and a delusion, but it felt good blaming _someone_.

“Late night, Ackles?” Genevieve Cortese, mail room clerk, had lifted herself up on her tiptoes so she could peek over the edge of the cubicle and look down at Jensen. Jensen groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“God, I wish,” Jensen responded. “Nah, I just didn’t sleep well I guess.”

“Probably nerves,” Gen said, sagely. Jensen knew a lot of people at the firm found her annoying, but he actually found her sweet and a little endearing. He wasn’t interested romantically, but she seemed like she’d be fun to hang out with. “Don’t worry, though. I heard through the grapevine that if we win the commission for the library, Sheppard is totally going to hire you on full-time and give it to you.”

Mark Sheppard was the owner and CEO of the architectural firm, so if Genevieve’s intel was correct then this was excellent news for Jensen. He couldn’t stop the smile that appeared, nor did he want to. It would mean so much – job security and financial stability. Not that Jensen’s finances were in trouble, but he hated the stress of finding his own employment. He was good at what he did, and he thought he’d make a fine asset for Sheppard’s firm – now hopefully Sheppard did as well.

“Thanks, Gen, I hope you’re right,” Jensen said. Genevieve grinned at him, conspiratorially.

“I’ll keep an ear out for more,” she said, her voice lowered. “Let you know if I hear anything else.”

“Perfect, Gen, thanks,” Jensen said sincerely.

“You know, I have one of those Five-Hour Energy drinks back at my desk. If you want it, you can have it. Just stop by the mailroom, ok? I’d get it for you, but I got these deliveries to make,” she said.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be alright,” said Jensen. He waited for her to leave and then rested his chin on his hands. _What was up with that dream_? It had felt different, somehow, but he couldn’t pin-point exactly what it was.

 _Memories_ , Jensen realized. _It was memories, but they weren’t mine_. Jensen started to wonder if he shouldn’t talk to a shrink, but now was not the time to get institutionalized. Not if he wanted to get hired on full-time at Sheppard  & Associates.

“Jared?” Jensen whispered into the air, wondering if his delusion was hanging about and inspiring his dreams. He looked around furtively to make sure no one had heard him, and Jared didn’t answer. Jensen felt both relief and anxiety at the lack of response. Feeling overly paranoid, Jensen nearly vibrated out of his chair when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

 _-Call me @ lunch-_

The text was from Chris, and as Jensen stared at the screen he realized that he really needed someone he could trust to confide in. He wiped off the screen of his smart phone and texted Chris back.

 _-Want to meet up instead?-_

 

***

  
Jensen poked a French fry around in ketchup and decided to just say it.

“So, Chris, I’m kind of, um, hearing voices. Well, just one voice, really.”

Chris guffawed. He really did. Jensen didn’t think there was any other synonym for laughter that would aptly describe what Chris had just done. He fought back a scowl as Chris’ guffaw led to a bout of his normal laughter. He sobered when he saw Jensen wasn’t laughing, or even smiling.

“Shit, son, you’re serious aren’t you?” Chris asked. His concern didn’t seem to affect his appetite, however, and he shoved a cluster of three French fries into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” Jensen stated, and it felt like admitting defeat. “I’m hearing the voice of this guy, Jared, and I’m dreaming about him too.”

“Sounds like true love to me,” Chris deadpanned, and Jensen arched an un-amused eyebrow. Sure, Chris was just teasing, but that remark had hit a little close to home. It was kind of ridiculous that Jensen would find his dream guy, quite literally, in his dreams, but there you go. Jared was like a laundry list of his turn-ons.

Taller than Jensen? _Check_.

Equally adorable and sexy? _Check_.

Totally and completely head over heels for Jensen? _Check and double check_.

And that was another thing. Jensen was suddenly taken with the urge to kiss Jared again. What did it say about him that he was practically throwing himself at his delusion?

“Jensen? Did you space out on me?” Chris did sound concerned now. He waved his hand in front of Jensen’s eyes.

“Yeah, I did, sorry,” Jensen said.

“So,” Chris said, drawing the word out to unnecessary lengths, “You’re either being haunted or you’re crazy.”

“God, Chris, isn’t there a third option?”

“Third option: You’re fuckin’ with me. In which case I owe you an ass-kicking,” Chris narrowed his eyes, as if trying to determine if Jensen was, in fact, fucking with him. Jensen glared back.

“Okay, so you’re not messin’ with me,” Chris sighed. “I got nothin’. Wait, did you eat anything weird? Oh! Maybe you have mold growing in your apartment. I hear that shit can mess you up. You should have it checked out.”

Jensen just stared at Chris. He was starting to regret confiding in him. “Let’s change the subject. It was probably something I ate, so let’s leave it at that. What did you want to tell me?”

The wattage of Chris’ grin could’ve supplied electricity to the greater Austin area for a week, at least. “So, you know that place I’ve been wanting to set up? Well, I just signed a lease on a little bar in the warehouse district. It’s perfect, and you have to wait to go completely crazy because you have to see it! It’s perfect. It’s got a rooftop patio, man! You have to come see it, help me get it set up. Oh, hey, what’s that chick’s name who helped you decorate your place? Lana?”

“Alona,” Jensen corrected. “I’ll get you her card, and you should definitely use her. She’s awesome.” Jensen felt a rush of excitement for his friend. Chris had wanted to open his own bar/club off of Sixth Street for a while, someplace where he wouldn’t have to deal with as much of the college crowd, but still well-trafficked. “So when do I get to see it?”

“As soon as you want, as long as you help me clean it up and get it ready,” Chris said.

“It’s not clean?” Jensen wanted to know.

“Well, one of the windows was broken and after that last storm that blew through here-“ Chris shrugged like that explained everything. “Owner said I could take anything I fix out of my rent, so there’s that.”

“Sounds like you got yourself a dive,” Jensen teased. Chris scooped up a big glob of ketchup with a fry and then used the French fry like a catapult to launch said glob of condiment at Jensen.

“Hey, jackass, I have to go back to work,” Jensen snapped. “You’re lucky that didn’t land on me.”

“Wow, sorry,” Chris said, insincerely. “This whole losing your mind thing is making you cranky.”

Jensen frowned and didn’t respond. Yeah, he was probably a little cranky, but then, who wouldn’t be? He pushed his food around on his plate until his subconscious, using the voice of his mother, told him to stop playing with his food. His frown deepened a little as he considered this. He could remember the way his mother sounded exactly, the cadence and tone of her voice and in a way, hear it in his mind, but it wasn’t like when he heard Jared. Jared wasn’t a voice in his mind – Jared was a voice outside of himself.

“Ghosts don’t always know they’re dead, right?” Jensen asked Chris suddenly.

“I don’t know, man. I’m not the person to ask. Maybe you should ask Melinda Gordon,” Chris said, his voice full of snark.

“Melinda who?” Jensen asked. The name sounded familiar for some reason, but-

“Chick from _Ghost Whisperer_ ,” Chris laughed. Jensen laughed then, too, because he wouldn’t have guessed that Chris would like a show like that. It took a minute, but eventually Chris realized he was being laughed _at_ , and not _with_. He scowled at Jensen.

“Shut up, Jennifer Love Hewitt is hot. Plus she has a great rack and she’s from Texas. Knew a gal who went to elementary school with her in one of those dinky towns up north somewhere.”

“And that has what to do with my problem, Chris?” Jensen asked. “It’s not like I can call up some fictional character to help me out here.”

“Maybe not, but you _could_ go see a psychic. At least find out if you got something weird hanging around you before you check yourself into the psych ward.”  
Jensen thought about it. “Yeah, maybe,” he conceded. “That’s not a yes, so you can’t harass me about it.”

“Jensen, Jensen,” Chris smiled. “When do I ever harass you?”

 

***

  
When Jensen arrived back at work after his lunch, something seemed off. The air was fraught with tension. In one corner of the office, a number of the employees had gathered and were murmuring softly amongst themselves. An unfamiliar blonde woman stood in their midst, and when she looked up and saw Jensen, she waved him over. He wondered if she was with the human resources department.

“Hi, I’m Katie Cassidy,” she introduced herself to him with a handshake and the other employees started making their way back to their desks. “I’m with the FBI.” She held up her badge but then snapped it closed before Jensen could get a good look at it.

“FBI? Wow, really?” Jensen was floored. What could the FBI possibly need from Sheppard and associates?

“Yeah, really,” Ms. Cassidy said succinctly, her mouth curving up in what might have been an attempt at a smile. “I’m looking for this man – have you seen him?” Ms. Cassidy held up a photo of a smiling man with a mop of dark hair and electric blue eyes. Jensen knew not to judge a book by its cover, but this man looked kind.

“Who is this?” Jensen wanted to know.

“He could be going by anything, but his real name is Misha Collins. He’s wanted in several states and we’ve had reports that he was last seen in this area. Have you seen him?”

“Misha, huh?” Jensen looked closer at the photo. It was a little weird that this guy had the same name as his cat, since Misha wasn’t exactly a common name like John or Sam.

“Have you seen him?” Ms. Cassidy seemed almost excited by the prospect and Jensen wondered how long she’d been after him.

“Sorry, no,” Jensen stated truthfully. “What’s he wanted for? Is he dangerous?”

“I really can’t say,” Ms. Cassidy answered. “He is unpredictable. I wouldn’t recommend approaching him if you do see him. Just give me a call, okay?” She put the photo away and fished out a business card with her name, number and the FBI logo on it. Handing it over to Jensen, she regarded him coolly, almost suspiciously, as if she thought he may be lying to her.

“Yeah, sure,” Jensen said. He wasn’t a very good people-watcher and doubted he’d recognize this Collins guy after only seeing one photograph for a few minutes, but he took the card nonetheless.

“Thanks,” Ms. Cassidy said in a clipped tone. She looked as if she might say something else, but then brusquely turned and walked in the direction of Sheppard’s office.

“Huh, weird,” Jensen muttered as he walked back to his own cubicle.

“I know, right?” Genevieve’s voice caught Jensen unawares. She was sitting in his chair, a smile on her face. “Kind of exciting, isn’t it? Did you recognize the guy? I’d love to help bring down a felon. Wouldn’t you?”

“Um, not really, no,” Jensen said. “Not to be rude, but is there a reason you were waiting at my desk?”

“No, not really,” Genevieve grinned. “Just trying to eavesdrop on the conversation with Ms. Hot-ass FBI agent.”

“Hot-ass FBI agent?” Jensen couldn’t wrap his mind around that one. “What?”

“Hey, I might not swing that way but I can appreciate a kick-ass female, you know,” Genevieve countered. Jensen laughed.

“Yeah, I suppose so. She was kind of intense though,” he said. “Guess she really wants to find her man.”

“God, that sounds like something out of CSI,” Genevieve giggled. She dropped her voice an octave. “Agent Cassidy always gets her man.”

“And that sounds like something out of a porno,” Jensen said. “Don’t you have work you need to be doing?”

Genevieve stuck out her tongue, but she vacated Jensen’s seat. He made shooing motions at her as she left his cubicle. At the last second, she turned and stage-whispered:

“I don’t want to go back to the mail-room. It’s hot and it smells funny in there. I think someone farted and no one’s copping to it.”

With that she flounced away while Jensen laughed as quietly as he could. Yeah, Genevieve was alright.

 

***

  
“Good God, Jared, what is that _smell_?” Jensen asked, wrinkling his nose as he entered his apartment. It was a valid question, since the apartment smelled suspiciously like weed, or at least something similar to it.

“Jensen!” Jared’s voice came out of nowhere, although it sounded like it was over by the fireplace, where, _dammit_ , the impala statuette was laying on the floor. Jensen hurried to pick it up and put it back in its place, turning it over in his hands to make sure the fall on the hearth hadn’t bent or damaged it in any way.

“Damn cat,” Jensen muttered as he set the impala back on the mantle. In answer, Misha peeked out from under the couch and make a trilling little mew sound before ducking back under.

“Damn what?” Jared asked. Jared sounded a little hurt and he hadn’t answered Jensen’s question.

“I said ‘damn cat’,” Jensen said. “He’s gonna break all my-“

Just then Jensen heard a crash come from his kitchen that sounded unmistakably like something breaking. Rushing to investigate the sound, Jensen found Misha on his counter pawing at the water faucet and his favorite coffee mug on the floor, in pieces.

“Misha!” Jensen roared, grabbing the cat with every intention of wringing his fuzzy little neck. Misha pinned his ears so they looked remarkably like horns and started struggling. Unable to hold the cat, Jensen let him jump down, where he wandered over to his water bowl and yowled loudly. It was empty. Misha started pushing at it with his face.

“Oh, you’re out of water,” Jensen said, stating the obvious. “You know you didn’t have to break my coffee cup.” Jensen picked up the bowl, rinsed it, and put down fresh water for the cat. Jensen then proceeded to pick up the broken pieces of cup. He frowned down at the ginger cat when he dumped the pieces in the trash can.

“Jensen? Did you say ‘Misha’?” Jared’s voice actually sounded a little panicked.

“Yeah, Misha broke-“

“Oh, God you know, don’t you? Did you see it? I’m so sorry, Jensen. I mean, it doesn’t count as cheating right? I mean you’ve dated since you died. I remember you said you dated Jennifer! But God, Jensen, I just miss you so much and I thought- I thought maybe if I kissed him that I could move on but now you’re pissed at him-“  
Jared’s words were coming a mile a minute and Jensen was pretty sure Jared had just violated rule number one ( _Don’t talk about me like I’m dead_ ), but the rest made no sense.

“Jared, calm down! What are you talking about?” Jensen interrupted. “Kissed who? And really, what the hell is that smell?”

Down on the floor, Misha hid his face with a paw and Jensen couldn’t help but wonder: _is that cat laughing at me?_

“I kissed Misha!” Jared exclaimed. His voice cracked a little and Jensen could tell he really was very upset. The words still made no sense.

“You kissed my cat?” Jensen was utterly confounded. When had his life gotten this weird?

“Your cat? Wait, you have a cat? And no, I didn’t kiss your cat! Misha’s my friend – he owns a flower shop down the street. You have to remember him since you named your cat after him.”

“I didn’t name my – _Goddammit, Misha, you’re going outside, right now_!” Jensen really didn’t mean to yell at the cat, but he’d just taken his paw and flipped the bowl that held his water. It ran in rivulets across the tile before settling into pools. Jensen reached down, scooped up the protesting ball of fluff and promptly marched him to the door. He shut the door firmly behind Misha as the cat walked off indignantly. He didn’t bother mopping up the water – it was water after all. It would dry. He walked into the living room and collapsed on his couch.

“Jensen?” Jared’s voice came softly from where the kitchen and living room met. “Are you mad at me? I’m so sorry, baby.”

Jensen sighed. It sounded like Jared was having a meltdown and Jensen felt a tug in his belly. He wanted to comfort Jared (maybe kiss him a few more times, because that boy could kiss), but how did one go about comforting a disembodied voice?

“Jared, I’m not mad, I promise,” he said, although if he wasn’t mistaken then that tug in his belly could very well be jealousy. “So you kissed Misha. You think I’m dead, so shouldn’t you find someone who’s alive to be with?”

Jensen frowned as his conversation with Chris came rushing back to him. In the chaos of the afternoon, with everyone in the office gossiping about the visit from the FBI agent who was looking for someone who shared a name with Jared’s florist friend and Jensen’s cat, Jensen had almost forgotten the conversation entirely.  
Jared was talking, and Jensen realized a little guiltily that he hadn’t been paying attention.

“. . . so awkward,” Jared was saying. “I mean, he could be straight for all I know. I never questioned it, and then I just laid one on him like-“

“Jared, your friend Misha,” Jensen interrupted, “Does he have dark hair and really blue eyes? Just a little bit scruffy?”

“You remember him!” Jared said in amazement.

Jensen felt a little like he was leading Jared on; getting his hopes up only to dash them to bits again. “Actually, I’ve never laid eyes on the guy,” Jensen said. “But someone came by my office looking for him today. An FBI agent.”

“The afterlife is so not what I thought it would be,” Jared said.

“Rule number one, Jared!” Jensen snapped, annoyed. “I’m not dead. I’d really like to find out why an FBI agent is looking for Misha, who happens to have the same name as my cat, who you kissed even though you say I’m your husband!”

“Oh, god, you are mad,” Jared mourned.

“Mad angry? Nah,” Jensen said with a little laugh he knew bordered on psychotic. “Mad crazy? Oh, most definitely.”

“Where does that leave us, Jensen?” Jared sighed, sounding defeated. Jensen didn’t know how to respond, and before he had a chance to, someone knocked on his door.

“Hold on Jared,” Jensen said as he stalked toward the door. “Someone’s at the door.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jared responded, and Jensen thought it showed good progress between them that Jared didn’t immediately assume it meant “ _more ghosts_ ”. Jensen looked through the peephole but whoever was out there was covering it. Jensen felt a surge of irritation and flung open the door.

The words he’d been about to let forth died on his tongue when he saw the crowd of friends outside his door, headed up by none other than Alona Tal. She pushed her way into his apartment and handed him a plant.

“Happy Housewarming, Jensen!” she chirped. Jensen looked at the small potted plant.

“Is this grass?” He asked, confused. He wasn’t an expert on potted plants, or plants in general for that matter, but grass in a pot seemed a little weird.

“It’s cat grass, numbnuts,” she said with a laugh. “It’s for Misha. I mean, I suppose you could nibble on it too if you want.”

“Jensen, if you want grass I have a much, much better option for you,” said Steve, setting a six pack of beer on the counter. Jensen turned to Alona. “Although,” he continued, tilting his head back and sniffing at the air, “it smells like you already got the hook-up for that.”

“I don’t smoke pot,” Jensen said. “I don’t know what that smell is. Maybe it’s my neighbors.” He turned to Alona. “How did you do this? You don’t know my friends,” Jensen asked, amazed that she’d managed to put this together. She laughed and held up a small leather-bound book.

“You, my friend, are incredibly easy to steal from,” she teased. “I lifted your address book. I can’t believe you didn’t notice. Want it back?”

“Yeah I want it back!” Jensen laughed and tried to swipe it from her. Alona cackled and ran across the apartment as the rest of his friends settled in. Jensen started to give chase but stopped short when he heard Jared.

“Jensen, what’s going on?” Jared sounded worried, but Jensen couldn’t exactly carry on a conversation with him in front of all of his friends.

“Later,” Jensen hissed, hoping that Jared heard him.

“Jensen? Is everything okay?” Jared didn’t sound at all appeased, but Jensen didn’t want to risk any of his friends hearing him talking to himself (even though he wasn’t), and so he ignored Jared.

A few unanswered attempts at conversation later, Jensen thought he heard someone storm off (heavy footfalls) followed by the phantom slam of a door. If Jensen guessed correctly, he’d say that was the bedroom door he’d heard slam. Jensen sighed and felt like an asshole. Setting his beer on the counter, Jensen slipped away from the impromptu party and walked into the bedroom.

“Jared?” he said the name softly, and heard a snort in reply. “I’m sorry. I’m a jerk. It’s just – Alona threw me a housewarming party and showed up with like fifteen of my friends.”

“So you’re talking to me now?” Jared asked. His voice was softer than Jensen’s.

“Jared, I can only say sorry so many times,” Jensen replied, “but I really am.”

“No, I know, it’s alright – I mean, you wouldn’t want to look crazy in front of your friends.” There was no trace of bitterness in Jared’s voice, but Jensen felt as if there should be.

“Jared, I-“

“Jensen, look,” Jared said. “I’m starting to think that maybe you’re not a ghost. Or if you are, you’re the strangest ghost I’ve ever heard of. I mean, you have friends, you have parties, you have a life. You’re an architect! You’re basically everything my Jensen ever wanted to be. Everything he wanted to do with his life you’ve done. You know he’d sketch little building designs on fast food napkins? They were terrible.” Here Jared laughed a little; a wry, sad laugh. “They really were, but I encouraged him. He had potential. He had so much potential and it just – I just . . . “

“Jared-“

“But you’re not _my_ Jensen. My Jensen is dead.I don’t know what you are,” Jared interrupted again. “Can – can you go back to your party please? I kind of want to be alone.”

Jensen nodded, and then realized that Jared couldn’t see him. “Yeah, okay,” Jensen said. It was weird. He felt like he was losing something he’d never even really had. “I’ll be in later.”

Without waiting for Jared to respond, Jensen backed out of the bedroom and shut the door gently. He returned to the party, but he felt a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach for the rest of the evening.

 

***

  
 _Jensen walked through the automatic sliding glass door of the convenience store with his hands in his pockets. Inside, the fluorescent lighting made all of the junk food wrappers look shiny, sparkly and inviting. Jensen ignored their temptations and walked to the back of the store where they kept the bottled drinks; next to the case of Krispy Kreme donuts that were freshly delivered each morning. Jensen eyed them longingly before steeling his resolve to not eat crap like that anymore. He quickly chose a bottle of Treetop apple juice and made his way to the check-out counter. Once there, he picked up a banana from one of the baskets of fresh fruit they had for their more health-conscious customers. He allowed himself one more look at the donuts in the back where they sat temptingly in all of their glazed glory. Sighing, he set his meager breakfast on the counter and fished his debit card out of his wallet._

 _“Will that be all, sir?” the cashier asked, wrapping his long, skinny fingers around Jensen’s purchases and ringing them up. Jensen took in the kid’s bored expression and gangly appearance and decided he couldn’t be over nineteen and obviously bored with his job. Jensen didn’t blame him. He could relate. He’d done a stint or three at various gas stations around Austin and hated each one more than the last._

 _“Um, I need to get twenty in gas on pump six, please,” Jensen said, handing over his Visa debit card. The cashier took the proffered card, but then his hand stilled and his eyes focused on something behind Jensen._

 _“Oh God,” the kid said, his eyes filling with tears. His lower lip trembled and Jensen’s card dropped to the counter with a soft clatter. Confused, Jensen turned around, afraid of what he’d see and feeling like he was moving through water._

 _Jensen’s mouth formed an “O” of surprise as he came face to face with the barrel of a gun. It had taken a moment for him to realize what he was staring at, and with the realization he froze._

 _“Get out of the way!” the gunman shouted and pushed Jensen to the side roughly. He landed with his back pressed against the magazine rack. “You, kid, empty your till and give me the money!”_

 _This wasn’t happening. This_ couldn’t _be happening. There was just no way._

 _The poor cashier was scared shitless and opened the register. With trembling fingers he started stuffing bills into a bag. Jensen pressed further into the magazine rack, afraid to try and move any further but desperately wishing he’d still been in the back of the store when this asshole had decided to pull a gun on the cashier.  
Irrationally, Jensen’s attention focused on his debit card left lying on the counter. He hoped the kid wouldn’t put it in the bag with the cash. It would suck if he had to cancel the card and order a new one. The cashier finished filling the bag. It hadn’t taken long – there mustn’t have been too much money in the till. Without warning the cashier threw the bag at the robber. He barely managed to catch it, and he stumbled backwards, thrown off balance. The hand holding the gun flung out to the side, pointing it directly at Jensen. The noise was deafening._

 _It hurt and he couldn’t breathe. Something was wrong and through the pounding in his ears he thought he could hear someone screaming. He turned his head, or maybe it just rolled that direction thanks to gravity, and Jensen realized that he was lying on the ground._

I’m hurt _, he thought, and wanted to get back up to assess the damage._ Maybe I should go to the hospital _. Jared was going to be mad at him for getting himself hurt, like Jared wasn’t accident prone himself in that giant body of his. Jared was like a Labrador that thought he was a lap dog. Jensen tried to take a deep breath and found he couldn’t. He wondered if he was dying and was pretty sure he’d been shot. His eyes focused on the counter where the register sat and wondered what was going to happen to his banana and his apple juice. They were his. He’d paid for them. Maybe they’d give them to Jared. His last thought before everything went dark was,_ shoulda had the donuts _._

 

***

  
Now _that_ was not a pleasant dream to wake up from. Jensen sat up in bed and had his bedside lamp switched on before he even fully realized he was awake. His breath came in short pants, his eyes were wide and the fingers of both of his hands were splayed over his chest.

“J-Jared!” he called out, not caring that he was calling out for his delusion. He needed to hear Jared’s voice, _right now_. “Jared!” he called again, louder this time. He heard a rustling sound and then a sleepy voice.

“Jens’n? S’at you?”

“Jared,” Jensen’s voice cracked and he raised one hand to his face, surprised to find it wet. He’d been crying, and hadn’t even realized it. “Oh, god, Jared-“

“Oh, Jensen, baby, what’s wrong?” Jared’s voice was soothing, and Jensen wished more than anything that he could crawl into Jared’s arms (they’d be big enough to wrap all the way around him, right?) and have him chase that terrifying dream away.

“I dreamt I died,” Jensen managed to ground out. “Jared, you said I died. How? How did it happen?”

He heard Jared take a deep breath. “Are you sure you want me to tell you?” Jared asked. Jensen nodded, and then realized he needed to vocalize his answer, because Jared still couldn’t see him.

“Please, I need to know,” Jensen said. His hands had stopped shaking, at least, but he still felt strange. Vulnerable. He pressed his back against the headboard of his bed and drew the covers up over his body until they covered him from neck to feet.

“Okay, Jensen,” Jared said after a few moments. “You were on your way to work. You hadn’t wanted to go in that day – you said you weren’t feeling well but I didn’t believe you. We argued about it. Not a bad argument, just a little spat really – but you agreed to go into to work. I shouldn’t have made you, baby. I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t pushed you into going. . .” Jared’s words trailed off.

“Jared, it wasn’t your fault,” Jensen said, wondering why Jared wouldn’t believe this other version of himself if he’d said he didn’t feel well enough to go to work. Jensen didn’t think he’d lie about something like that in any incarnation. “Was I lying? Was that something I did often?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Jared’s response came quick and defensive, as if this was something he was used to arguing about. Jensen was somewhat impressed with his subconscious – when it decided to dream up imaginary people, it sure made them realistic. There was a small part of Jensen that was starting to doubt that Jared wasn’t real though. Oh, there was no rational explanation to it, of course, but Jensen’s imagination had never been that, well, for lack of a better word, imaginative.

“Okay, sorry I asked,” Jensen said. “How did he – how did your Jensen die?” Something in Jensen’s stomach tightened and he bit his lower lip.

“He stopped for breakfast at a gas station,” Jared said, and his tone was quiet, bitter. “There was a robbery and he – he got shot. He died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I – I wasn’t there. “

Jared didn’t say anything more after that, but Jensen could tell what was going on with him by the soft exhalations and hitches of breath. Jared was crying, or at the very least, trying not to. Jensen felt his gut churn again and he wished more than ever that Jared had physical form that he could hold, tightly, and soothe. It wasn’t fair – this _thing_ , whatever it was that was happening to them.

“Jared,” Jensen said quietly, halfway to a whisper. His limbs felt heavy and he fought off a yawn. Now that the dream and its aftermath were over, Jensen found himself exhausted. Sleep was once again trying to reclaim him. “Jared, are you real? Like, really real? Like, I could look you up on Google real?”

“Of course I’m real, Jensen,” came Jared’s own weary reply. “Are you? Are you really Jensen?”

“Yes, I’m real,” Jensen responded, settling back down in his bed and pulling the covers tight around his body.


	7. Chapter 7

 

“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”  
-Friedrich Nietzsche

  
 **VII.**  
 _Saturday, October 26_  


  
 _Jensen wasn't surprised to find Jared next to him when he rolled over in bed. The room was lit in a soft glow from outside as if it were twilight; that quiet time of day when the sky darkened to periwinkle and the earth darkened to shades of gray and umber. After their earlier tête-à-tête and the bad feelings it had engendered in Jensen, he knew that rule three was probably no longer valid. Jared seemed to be asleep still, so instead of giving in to the urge to kiss him, Jensen let his fingers gently trace the well defined muscles of his abdomen._

 _He didn't know what to think of the whirlwind craziness that his life had become over the last couple of days. He’d never felt a connection like this so quickly with anyone – usually his relationships epitomized the phrase “_ slow burn” _._

 _Jared’s eyes opened lazily, and Jensen imagined their hazel color that the room was too dark to properly show. Jared smiled shyly when he saw Jensen hovering over him, and his hand lifted to cover Jensen’s where it rested on Jared’s abdomen. Jensen leaned in slowly, broadcasting his intent with his deliberate movement. The dark, heated look that came to Jared’s face more than gave permission, and so Jensen didn't say a word, just covered Jared’s mouth with his own._

 _Jensen closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the sensation. There was too much to think about, and right now Jensen didn't know what he wanted, exactly, just that he wanted_ something _. Wanted Jared. The kiss was a gentle meeting of lips and tongues. Jared’s lips were soft, surprisingly so since they weren't as full as Jensen’s own, and they parted for him eagerly. He pushed his tongue into Jared’s mouth, and Jensen knew he could lose himself in this. He’d only kissed Jared a handful of times, and never like this, and yet it was growing familiar. Jensen could see himself growing addicted to it._

 _He pressed closer to Jared, who had shifted onto his side at some point during the kiss and looped his arms around Jensen’s middle. Jared’s arms tightened and he realized through the foggy haze of lust that they were pressed skin to skin from chest to hip, their mouths the most intimate connection of all.  
Jensen wasn't sure when the gentle kiss that he’d initiated had changed, but it evolved from sweet exploration to a fevered rush, a hungry devouring of each other. Someone moaned, and Jensen wasn't sure if it was Jared or him, or both. Jared’s hands were no longer content to simply hold Jensen close, and were now running down the muscles of Jensen’s back to the jut of his hip. Jensen gasped when he realized he was growing hard, his naked length tucked up tight between his body and Jared’s. Jared, he realized, was just as naked as Jensen was, and definitely just as aroused. Huh. Jensen definitely remembered Jared being in pajamas the last time they’d been dreaming together. Maybe he’d ditched them tonight in hopes that something like this would happen? Jensen wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Impulsively, he lowered his hands to Jared’s hips and pulled, grinding their erections together. Jared’s eyes flew open in surprise or alarm. He groaned._

 _“God, Jensen,” Jared gritted out. “What are we doing?”_

 _“Do we have to think about it?” Jensen sighed. “I don’t know what we’re doing. All I know is I really, really want you to touch me.” Jensen accentuated this statement with a roll of his hips and Jared’s eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled shakily. “And I really want to touch you,” Jensen added, in case it wasn't clear._

 _Apparently that was all it took to convince Jared, for he surged forward, renewing their kiss with vigor and thrusting his hips against Jensen’s. All rational thoughts ceased, especially when Jared’s hand snaked in between their bodies and he wrapped his long fingers around Jensen’s length. Jensen’s head lolled back and Jared’s mouth latched onto his neck, sucking hard at the tender flesh there._

 _Pleasure coiled in Jensen’s belly as Jared stroked up and down. He was close to coming, and he didn't want to leave Jared behind. Reluctantly, he pulled Jared’s hand off of him and pushed Jared onto his back. Jensen pulled the sheet, which was bunching awkwardly around them, down until it rested just below Jared’s hips, and for the first time Jensen saw all of Jared. His hard, heavy length jutted proudly from between his legs, the head flushed dark red and leaking. Jensen was impressed and momentarily rethought what he was about to do. Jared’s eyes were wide with curiosity, but Jensen didn't speak a word. He didn’t have to._

 _He slowly worked his way down Jared’s body with his mouth, dropping small, dry kisses down his chest and stopping only long enough to swipe his tongue over one of Jared’s nipples. Jared’s nipples didn't seem to be especially sensitive, so after a few more licks just to indulge his own enjoyment of them, Jensen continued onward._

 _“Should we be doing this?” Jared asked, suddenly._

 _“Maybe this is all we get,” Jensen replied. He dropped a few kisses to Jared’s abs, making his way southwards. “Let’s make the most of it. What do you think?”_

 _“Jensen, no, wait,” Jared said, and Jensen felt Jared’s hands on his shoulders, tugging him up. Jared’s cock seemed to disagree with Jared’s mouth, if the way his hips thrust forward towards Jensen’s mouth was any indication._

 _Jensen couldn't resist touching, so he reached out and gently, so gently, let his fingers circle round the head of Jared’s cock, his index finger circling the slit. Looking up, he saw that Jared had propped himself up and was looking down at Jensen. Jensen smirked and lifted his index finger to his mouth, swiping at it with his tongue._

 _Jared groaned and his eyes drifted shut._

 _“Jensen,” he breathed. “Just – God that was hot – just wait, please?”_

 _It was the please that did it. Concerned, Jensen moved back up the bed until he was once again face to face with Jared. “What’s wrong?”_

 _“Well, it’s just,” Jared’s eyes were looking over Jensen’s shoulders, down at the blankets, up at the ceiling – basically, anywhere that wasn't Jensen’s face._

 _“It’s just what, Jared?” Jensen prodded, gently. If Jared really wanted to stop this, Jensen would respect that. He just really hoped that wasn't what Jared wanted._

 _“It’s stupid,” Jared said, and he finally met Jensen’s eyes with his own. Jensen was surprised at how wet they looked, as if Jared was fighting back tears._

 _“Hey, it’s not stupid,” Jensen said. He cupped Jared’s face with his hand and rubbed his thumb across his cheek. For a moment he worried that he’d be accused of treating Jared like a girl, but Jared seemed to like the caress. “Whatever it is, tell me. I won’t be mad.”_

 _“Jensen, about earlier, I’m sor-“ Jared began to say, but Jensen interrupted him with a head shake._

 _“Don’t,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “There’s nothing to apologize for. This thing that’s happening between us – I don’t know what’s causing it, but I’m not sorry it’s happening.”_

 _“Neither am I,” Jared said earnestly._

 _“So why did you stop me?” Jensen asked. He really wanted to know so maybe he could get back to what he’d been about to do. Once again Jared looked to the side and avoided eye contact._

 _“I feel like I’m cheating on you – with you,” Jared managed to say. It was hard to tell in this light, but Jensen was pretty sure that Jared was blushing. Jensen’s first reaction was to laugh, but he curbed that as quick as he could because he was almost positive that it wouldn’t be appreciated. A smile did manage to sneak through though._

 _“I get it Jared, I do,” Jensen said._

 _“You do?” Jared sounded dubious._

 _“Yeah, I do,” Jensen said. “I’m not your Jensen. I guess I’m kind of like Jensen 2.0 for you or something. I don’t have the memories of a life shared with you – well I have some of them, like from when we met, and when I died but everything in between is a wash. So it makes sense. But if you want this, Jared, if you want me, then you have to let the Jensen that you used to have be dead. You have to let him go. I’m not him.”_

 _“Jensen 2.0?” Jared repeated. Jensen scanned Jared’s face to see if he’d offended him, and was surprised to see a tiny smile hovering on Jared’s lips. “I actually like that.”_

 _“So does this mean I can-“ Jensen waggled his eyebrows suggestively which drew a laugh out of Jared._

 _“Can we just-“ Jared leaned in and kissed Jensen again, a slow kiss where Jared thoroughly claimed Jensen. Jensen couldn't help it, he whimpered, but he couldn't feel embarrassed about it when Jared drew their hips back together and thrust against him. From then on, it was all about sensation – the push forward and retreat as they both found their pleasure. Jared once again worked his hand between their bodies, but this time he took them both in hand and stroked aggressively.  
“Oh God,” Jensen panted and risked a look down. It was too much, and he felt his orgasm loom ever closer. He closed his eyes tightly and buried his face in Jared’s shoulder. He was going to come embarrassingly loud, he knew it, and so he pressed even tighter._

 _“Come on, Jensen, come for me baby. I’m gonna-“_

 _With that, Jensen was gone, his orgasm rolling in like the tide and completely overpowering him. He shook, he cursed and by the time he came back to his senses Jared was coming as well._

 _“Huh,” he heard Jared say through the fog that had settled in his brain. “You never used to be a biter.”_

 

***

  
Jensen snapped awake with no lingering sleepiness. Determined, he rolled out of bed and hurried through his morning ablutions. Jared had told him his last name and even spelled it out for him, hard as it was for him to get his letters to work in the dream-world.

 _Jared Padalecki._

A soon as he was dressed he ducked into the second bedroom that housed his office. He’d been avoiding this room lately, mainly because it was a mess of resumes and other paperwork piled all over his desk and frankly, Jensen hadn't felt like cleaning it. Besides, he’d been checking his emails and doing all his online stuff at work lately. Now though, he looked around and realized that the room was fairly unusable. He was damn lucky he’d found his checkbook the other day for Alona.

Sitting down at the computer, Jensen pressed the button to turn it on and then with one swipe of his arm pushed all the miscellaneous crap and papers off of his desk onto the floor. He’d have to remember to shut the door when he left the room. He didn't want Misha to mistake the crumpled up pile of paper as an alternative to his litter box. Not that Misha ever made mistakes like that, but Jensen didn't want any surprises left for him. Misha was kind of a spiteful cat and Jensen wasn't really surprised by his odd behavior anymore.

Finally, the computer loaded and Jensen pulled up his browser’s search engine, typing in _Jared Padalecki_ with shaky hands. What if he found Jared? What then? Should they pursue a relationship? Jensen was pretty sure he wasn't going to turn up any results for Jared online, at least not for the same Jared Padalecki whose voice had infiltrated his apartment and whose voice and body had become a regular in Jensen’s dreams. His mind drifted back to their tryst last night in the dream-world and he shivered at the memory.

Jensen’s fingered hovered over the mouse key for a long time before he finally clicked on ‘search’. Not much came back aside from the usual people finding ads and classmate sites that wanted to take your money to let one talk to people from school that one probably didn't like all that much to begin with. Jensen scrolled through a few pages before an entry caught his eye. He clicked the link and was taken to a forum, where someone named Margaret Padalecki had written a brief essay about her brother, Jared Padalecki, and how he was her hero. As Jensen read, his eyes grew wide with horror. Certainly this couldn't be _his_ Jared Padalecki. And when did he start thinking of Jared Padalecki as _his_?

“I’m coming!” Jensen heard Jared call from the hallway, and thankfully it distracted Jensen from the essay he’d been reading online and brought to mind completely inappropriate images of Jared’s hand wrapped around both of their-

“Hold on!” Jared shouted, sounding impatient. Jensen heard heavy footsteps heading toward the door, and out of curiosity, he left the office and followed the sounds to the living room.

“Company?” Jensen asked. It still felt really weird to be asking questions of what, for all intents and purposes, was thin air. He heard the door open, and then Jared again.

“Hi Chad. Who’s this?”

Chad again, then, Jensen thought and turned away. It was too weird hearing Jared’s one-sided conversations with people, and Jensen wanted to finish the essay he’d been reading.

“Hi, nice to meet you, Father Morgan,” Jared said, and Jensen’s interest was at once piqued. Father Morgan? As in a priest? Jensen’s stomach growled, but he ignored it. He was much more interested in there being a phantom priest in his apartment. He laughed a little, quietly, because how strange was it that he was starting to accept all of this?

“Thursday? I think? So . . . this is the third day I've heard him. . . Yeah, Jensen, my late husband.”

It was pretty easy to figure out what questions this priest was asking of Jared. What Jensen wanted to know was why Chad had dragged a priest to Jared’s apartment anyway. Surely he wasn't trying to exorcise the place? Jensen wasn't a ghost, or a spirit.

“Jared,” Jensen called, softly. “I need to talk to you about something I read online. Can you get rid of your company?”

It was a few seconds before Jared responded, and then his voice called ever so quietly from the kitchen. Jensen hurried over so he could hear him. “Chad brought a priest over to bless the place. Dude, Chad’s not even Catholic, but he wants to try this before,” Jared’s voice broke a little on that last word, and Jensen heard him inhale deeply before continuing, “-before they try professional help. Jensen, I think they think I’m crazy. Crap!” Then, louder, “Yeah, I’m in here! No, I wasn't talking to him, um, it. I know, talking to it is bad. No, I don’t think it’s a demon, Chad, _Christ_.”

“Um, everything okay there, Jared?” Jensen asked, amused. Jared didn't respond, but then Jensen really didn't expect him too, not if he had company. And he really didn't want to be the cause of Jared being committed, so instead of following Jared’s voice around the apartment, he returned to his office to finish reading. First, though, he grabbed a piece of fruit from the kitchen to appease his complaining stomach.

A few minutes later the apple sat untouched next to Jensen’s keyboard, forgotten as he stared at the text on his computer monitor. He sighed as he finished the essay. This couldn't be the Jared he was talking to; the one he was seeing in his dreams. This Jared was an eight year old child. At least he had been in 1990, the year he’d died.

Jensen pushed his chair back and stood. He hadn't found any other Jared Padalecki on the internet and with a name like that, he hadn't been surprised. Jensen paced back and forth in front of the computer before he remembered a line from the essay he’d just read. Bending over, he scanned the text until he found it, making sure he’d read it correctly.

 _“We took the only photo that survived and had a copy of it set into his tombstone. Now he smiles at everyone who comes to visit him. I make sure to visit him as often as I can just to make sure someone’s smiling back.”_

Just like that, Jensen knew he had to visit that grave. Sure, the picture was of an eight year old kid, but he was pretty sure, based on what he’d seen of Jared, that a kid version of him would share enough physical characteristics for Jensen to identify him. San Antonio wasn't that far from Austin, about an hour’s drive or so. He double checked the essay to make sure his sister had mentioned the cemetery name and thankfully, she had.

He didn't want to go alone. Maybe it was childish, but the thought of driving there and finding that it was in fact Jared who was buried there scared Jensen. There was only one thing to do, and that was to call Chris. Chris owed him innumerable favors; he could do this for Jensen.

 

  
***

  
The cemetery Jared was buried in was on the northeast side of San Antonio, surrounded by fields in all directions with only a hint of the city on the horizon. The sky was grey and heavy with threat of rain, and Jensen shivered as he parked his car in the parking lot. In the passenger's side, Chris sat silent, taking in his surroundings just as Jensen was.

The cemetery was nicely maintained, with oak and cedar trees planted here and there. It was peaceful. Jensen took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. This was probably just a dead end. Nothing to get worked up about. He’d slipped out of the apartment without letting Jared know he was leaving, not wanting to bring this up unless something came of it. Now, as he’d driven down to San Antonio he realized that Jared was probably going to think the exorcism or whatever was being done worked. He felt a little guilty for that, but there was literally nothing he could do about that now. It wasn't like he could just call Jared up and apologize.

“You sure you want to do this, man?” Chris asked, breaking the silence.

Jensen gave a wry laugh. “I’m here, aren't I? I just need to prove to myself once and for all that I’m not crazy.”

“Jensen, just bein’ here is crazy,” Chris said with a raised eyebrow. Jensen frowned at him before climbing out of the car and shutting the door probably harder than necessary.

“I don’t know where to look,” Jensen admitted. Chris shrugged.

“Well, the cemetery’s not that big,” Chris said. It was true. The cemetery took up maybe five acres at the most. “Let’s just start at one end and work our way around, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jensen agreed. Chris took a few steps toward the graves, and then turned and looked at Jensen.

“The grave’s not gonna come to you, you realize?” he said, his words laced with sarcasm. Jensen just rolled his eyes and followed. Together, they made their way around the property, stopping to look at gravestones. Chris seemed to be enjoying himself, actually, if the way he stopped and stared at the older graves was any indication.

“Jensen, check it out, this one’s from 1890,” he said, leaning over a grave and squinting at the faded inscription. “Aw, damn, it was just a baby. It’s so sad to see kid’s graves, you know?”

Jensen rubbed a hand over his face. “Chris, did you forget what we’re here to look at?” He’d explained everything to Chris on the way down here, because it wasn't like Chris could bail out of the car on I-35 at 75 miles per hour (and yes, Jensen may have been speeding). He’d left out the more intimate details, of course he had, but it had been nice to use Chris as a sounding board. Chris, for all his faults and his complete lack of understanding about Jensen’s sexuality, was always there for him when Jensen really needed him.

Chris looked over at Jensen and straightened. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Jensen said. “Can we just get this over with?”

“Yeah, sure,” Chris said. They moved on, and Chris stopped pointing out all the old graves. Jensen’s eyes swept back and forth, noticing that the further they went, the newer the graves were. Finally, they reached the section of graveyard that was held graves from the 1980’s and 90’s, and there, like a punch to the gut, was the headstone he was looking for.

 

 _JARED PADALECKI  
JULY 19, 1982 – AUGUST 17, 1990  
I PRAY THE LORD MY SOUL TO KEEP_

  
Under that, the picture of the child smiled out, and it was, beyond any doubt, his Jared that Jensen saw there. From the shape of those laughing hazel eyes to the dimples that framed the smile, it was Jared.

The world pulsed around Jensen and his vision grew hazy around the edges. All he could see was that gravestone and that face, looking out at whoever took the picture with nothing but pure joy shining there. It struck Jensen how unfair life was, then. It blindsided him and he felt his knees grow weak. Thank God Chris was there – Jensen felt his hand on his shoulder, gripping tight, and it helped steady him, bring him back to reality.

Reality. What the hell even is reality at this point? Jensen wondered. Fact of the matter was that Jared Padalecki was just as dead and buried as he claimed Jensen was. So what was going on here?

“It’s him, isn't it?” Chris asked, his voice gone soft. “What the hell is going on with you Jensen? Are you being haunted by an eight year old?”

“No,” Jensen said. “He’s grown. Just trust me on this one – I am not being haunted by a kid.”

“Hm, so what do you think-“

“Hi!”

A feminine voice interrupted Chris’ question and both men turned to see a woman walking their direction. She was smiling, but there was curiosity in her smile as well. She was tall for a woman and she had the same hazel eyes as the child in the picture.

“Hi there,” Chris responded. “Nice day.”

She glanced up at the clouds and her smile faltered just a little.

“Yeah,” she said, her hands in the pockets of her stylish pea-coat. “If you don’t mind the cold and the rain that’s probably going to start in about five minutes. I've never seen you two here before. I see you've met my brother. You visiting family here?”

“Oh, uh, a friend of the family,” Jensen lied. “I hadn't been to his grave in ages, and I thought it was time to pay my respects. So, this is your brother?”

“Yeah,” she said with a wistful sigh. Her eyes lit on the tombstone and her smile suddenly seemed forced. Since she wasn’t looking at Jensen, he let himself take in her appearance. She was very attractive, which wasn’t a surprise since Jared was gorgeous too. Looking closer though, he noticed scars that emerged from under her collar that traveled up her neck and barely kissed her cheek. She didn't seem ashamed of them, as she made no attempt to hide them. Her long brown hair was pulled away from her face and neck in a ponytail. She must have sensed Jensen looking at the scars, though, for her hand drifted up and her fingertips lightly traced the pattern. It was obviously an old habit, practiced often.

“He saved my life, you know,” she said.

“You don’t have to-“ Chris started, obviously feeling awkward.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she said. “Sorry, I have a bad habit of rambling. I’m Margaret Padalecki. Or Maggie, or Meg, whichever.”

She held out her hand and both Jensen and Chris shook it while they introduced themselves. Perhaps it was weird to introduce themselves to each other in a cemetery, but it felt like the right thing to do, so Jensen went with it.

“So, he saved your life?” Chris asked, when the introductions were complete.

“Yeah,” she said. “There was a fire, and Jared woke everyone up and got us out of there. We almost didn’t make it out, but we did. We both got burned.” Again, her fingers traced the scars. “But then he went back for the dog. Mom and Dad tried to hold him back but – well, he always was good at slipping out of our hands – and he ran back inside to get Sadie, and that was when the ceiling collapsed.”

“Oh God,” Chris said. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Jensen rather felt like Chris shouldn’t have asked either, but he wasn’t going to say so.

“No really, it’s okay,” Margaret said. “It was a long time ago. I just don’t like to leave him alone out here for too long.” Her gaze slipped sideways to Jensen and he wondered if perhaps she wasn’t judging him for what he’d said earlier, about it being a while since he’d visited his fictional family friend.

  
“Well,” Jensen said, really wanting to extricate himself from this awkward situation. “I really have to get back to town. Come on, Chris. It was nice meeting you, Margaret.”

  
Jensen and Chris walked back towards the car, but few steps away, Chris said, “hold on,” and jogged back over to where Margaret stood. They talked for a brief minute and then Chris held out his cell phone to her and she punched a few numbers in. Grinning like a maniac, Chris then strode back over to Jensen, looking like the cat who got the cream.

  
“Tell me you did not just hit on a girl in a cemetery who was visiting her brother,” Jensen said with a shake of his head.

  
“I didn’t hit on a girl in a cemetery who was visiting her brother,” Chris said. “But I did get her phone number.”

 

***

  
Jared’s expletives when Jensen arrived home and said hi weren’t nearly as colorful or creative as Jensen’s own.

“Hi, Jared,” Jensen said again.

“Jensen! Oh, thank G- I mean, hey, you’re still here. I thought - I thought the blessing had worked. I thought you were gone.”

“Nope, still hanging around,” Jensen replied. “So, I looked you up this morning.”

“Huh?” was Jared’s brilliant response.

“I looked you up,” Jensen said. “On the internet. And I- I kinda found you.”

Jared didn’t respond, at least not right away. After what seemed like a long silence to Jensen, but was probably just a few moments, Jared spoke.

“What do you mean, you found me? Uh, does that mean you’re leaving me?”

Jensen’s stomach twisted, because it sounded for all the world like Jared thought Jensen was about to break up with him. That was a ridiculous thought. How could Jensen break up with someone he didn’t even have a real relationship with? His thoughts were jarred by a sudden flashback to the intimacy of the previous night, not to mention the night Jared had essentially talked Jensen to an orgasm.

“Jensen?” Jared’s voice was timid now.

“No, I’m not leaving you, Jared. Listen, can we go sit down on the couch?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jared said. He still sounded nervous. Jensen felt just as nervous as Jared sounded. How would Jared take being told that he was dead in Jensen’s world?

 _Jensen’s world._

The implications in those two small words boggled Jensen’s mind and his thoughts officially entered Twilight Zone territory. He purposefully ignored them as he sat down on his couch.

“Jared, are you here?” he asked. God, it would be so much easier if he could just see Jared.

“I’m here,” Jared said. If Jensen wasn’t mistaken, Jared was sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him. “You said you found me? I’m not sure that’s good or bad, considering you didn’t show up on my – or your- doorstep. I mean, technically it’s both of ours, since we live in the same place. Except we don’t, I mean. If we did, we could see each other, right?”

“Jared,” Jensen interrupted. He held up a hand even though he knew perfectly well that Jared couldn’t see him.

“Sorry,” Jared mumbled. Jensen couldn’t help but smile at the embarrassed tone in Jared’s voice. “I ramble sometimes.”

“I noticed,” Jensen said. “There’s no easy way to say this so I’m just gonna spit it out, okay? I looked your name up online and the only Jared Padalecki I could find lived down in San Antonio.”

“That’s where I’m from,” Jared said, sounding excited. “Wait, you said _lived_? As in, past tense.”

“Yeah,” Jensen winced. He’d wondered if Jared would catch that, and he had. “My Jared Padalecki died in a fire on August 17, 1990. I um, I visited his grave today just to make sure it was the right Jared Padalecki, and it is.”

“Oh my God,” Jared breathed. “Holy shit. Oh, my God.”

“Jared?” Jensen asked in concern. It rather sounded like Jared was having a panic attack.

“Jensen, that’s impossible. Does that means my family – my family is _alive_ where you are?”

“Well, yeah,” Jensen said, not really thinking about it. “I actually met your sister there, Margaret. Chris flirted with her, I think he got her num-“

“You met Meg?” Jared’s tone had gone strange, if not a bit choked. Jensen wondered if perhaps he should have kept that bit of information to himself.

“Jared, I-“ Jensen began, but was soon interrupted.

“My family all died in that fire,” Jared said. “I was the only one who got out. I don’t even remember that night – the child psychologists I got sent to all said I blocked it out. Some even accused me of starting the fire, but I didn’t. I _didn’t_.” The last word was said vehemently, as if Jared was afraid that Jensen would jump to the same conclusion.

“I know you didn’t, Jared,” Jensen stated.

“Officially, it was faulty wiring in the garage,” Jared half-whispered. “None of my relatives wanted me after that – I guess they thought I was a bad seed or something. Maybe they bought into the theory that I’d started the fire, I don’t know, but I ended up in the foster system. That’s how I met Chad; actually, I was sixteen when I started living with the Murray’s. I was a problem kid by then, and they kind of saved me from myself, but-“

“But?” Jensen supplied when Jared didn’t continue.

“They don’t like that I’m gay,” Jared breathed, and Jensen had to strain to hear him. “Oh, they’re not bigots about it, not really. They just like to pretend it’s not real. I think in a way they were relieved when you – no, when my Jensen died. I think they assume I’m going to settle down with a girl now. I know they hope I will.”

Jensen just sat there for a moment, letting that sink in.

“God, Jared, I’m-“ Jensen began.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Jared said without malice. “It’s over and done, and sorry is just something people say when they don’t know what else to say.”

“But I don’t know what else to say,” Jensen admitted. “That’s rough. I wish I was there, or you were here.”

“But that’s just it, isn't it, Jensen?” Jared asked in a brittle tone. “I think we live in two different worlds. But how is that possible? How is it that we can talk to each other?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Jensen said. “It’s not possible. But it’s happening.”

“Yeah,” Jared breathed. “Actually, I might know someone who can help. I’ll be back in a little while.”

And with that, Jensen heard Jared’s footsteps lead to the doorway, and with a phantom creak of the door, he was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

 

“Who knows what may lie around the next corner? There may be a window somewhere ahead. It may look out on a field of sunflowers.”  
-Joe Hill, _20th Century Ghosts_  


  
 **VIII.**  
 _Saturday, October 26_  


  
Jared practically jogged through the market, oblivious to the rain that had begun to fall and the wind that tousled his already unruly hair into a tangled mop. The wind had stung color into his cheeks: probably reddening his nose as well. He hadn't grabbed a jacket before taking off so abruptly from his apartment, and so he arrived at Misha’s shop tousled, red-faced and damp.

The sign in the window read “Closed”, but the door was unlocked. In hindsight, Jared would wonder if he should have heeded the sign. Jared threw himself through Misha’s shop door, as blustery as the autumn weather outside.

“Why don’t you think I’m crazy, Misha?” Jared blurted, his voice too loud in the small shop. The customers standing at Misha’s register turned in surprise, the woman’s eyes widening under her clothe hat and the man’s eyes narrowing, assessing whether or not Jared was a threat.

Misha didn't react, startled or otherwise. He cleared his throat and held a few bills and change in his hand. The man at the counter turned back to Misha and accepted his money. It was then Jared noticed how odd the couple was dressed. Besides the woman’s old-fashioned hat, both of them wore clothing that would have looked more in place in the roaring twenties.

“Your order will be ready at the appointed time,” Misha said. The man nodded, mumbled a thanks and with his hand on the arm of his companion, and they made haste out of the shop.

“Now, Jared, you mustn't be barging in and scaring my customers,” Misha said, his eyes twinkling. “That’s my job, remember? Now, I've never thought that because you aren't. Crazy, I mean. That’s absurd.”

“But,” Jared sputtered, feeling both a little angry at Misha’s calm and embarrassed for scaring the customers. They’d looked like nice people. Jared hoped he hadn’t driven business away for Misha. He dragged a hand through his hair, pulling it from his eyes,

“Now then,” Misha continued, “are you going to come into my shop or just hover by the doorway? You look like you have a lot on your mind. Come, talk. As you can see, the store is actually closed, so. . .”

“Sorry,” Jared said, sheepish. “I saw that, but I wanted to talk to you. I shouldn't-“

“Nonsense,” Misha said. “Lock the door, come into the office, and sit on my couch. I’ll take notes and not even charge you. I usually charge for that, you know.”  
Jared smiled. “Just so you know I don’t have insurance,” he said. “So it’s good you’re not charging, because I couldn't afford to pay you anyway.” He followed Misha into his office and sat on the same sad couch he’d sat on before.

“How can you know that I’m not crazy?” was the first thing Jared said once he was settled. “I hear Jensen’s voice, I’m dreaming about him almost every night now but it’s not him. How is this possible?”

Misha’s brow furrowed. “Maybe you need to look deeper. Maybe it is your Jensen, but not the one who died. Do you know what I mean?”

“That – that’s kind of what I was thinking, but it doesn't make any sense,” Jared replied. “You know my sister died when I was eight? Jensen met her today. So I guess what I need to know is if Jensen is Jensen the Amnesiac Ghost or if he’s Jensen-but-not-my-Jensen. Is he real? Is he _alive_? How come I’m hearing him? How come I’m dreaming about him?”

Jared stared at Misha blankly before continuing, “There was only one Jensen. It’s not like there’s another one I can just bring in to replace the one who died. I don’t _want_ to replace him. I loved Jensen! I loved him just the way he was. Even with his faults and imperfections he was perfect for me! I don’t know what’s going on and I need to, Misha! I need to. I can’t take much more of this. I really can’t.” Jared stood and began to pace back and forth in the small office. Misha sat calmly on his desk and regarded Jared while he paced.

Misha chewed on his bottom lip. “Do you remember the other day when I was talking about parallel dimensions? It was the same day I was talking about the aliens. Or perhaps it was the day before that.”

Jared thought back. He’d been subjected to Misha’s eccentricities so many days in a row now that it all started to run together like watercolors. Thinking back, he thought he remembered a conversation about parallel worlds.

“Wait,” Jared said, “before this all started, you asked me about ten-minutes-ago us versus now-us. Is that what you’re talking about?”

“Yes, exactly that,” Misha looked proud, but then his expression shifted to confused. “But no, it’s nothing like that actually. I need to illustrate this.”

He grabbed a small planter and set it on the desk. There was a small plant growing there; Jared didn't know what kind of plant it was. Misha dug his finger into the potting soil next to the stem.

“Say this potting soil is the universe. Every universe. Every possibility that could ever exist does exist in this soil. Understand?”

“Um, yeah, okay,” Jared said. He felt a little lost but he owed it to Misha to listen, at least, after the way he burst into the shop. Misha beamed like Jared was his star pupil.

“Okay so we have the plant, and it’s just one possibility right? It’s putting out roots in the soil, exploring, if you will, different possibilities. As the plant gets bigger, the more the roots spread out. Am I explaining this badly?”

Jared just blinked. “No?” he really didn't mean to make it sound like a question. Misha sighed.

“Okay, let’s try it this way. Think about the roots like a timeline. You have one timeline, but at a pivotal moment it splits and goes in two different directions.”

“Like the fire,” Jared breathed. He stared at the soil in the planter like it held the secrets of the universe.

“Like the fire,” Misha agreed. “Now, each possibility exists in a different, parallel dimension.”

“So, kind of like that movie, what was it called?” Jared said.

Misha just shrugged, and Jared knew he had no idea what movie Jared was talking about. “There are hundreds of stories about parallel realms,” he said. “Some just might be more true than oth-“

Misha’s diatribe was interrupted by someone knocking on the front door of the flower shop, forcefully. The aggressive pounding echoed through the shop, causing some of the plant leaves to vibrate under the assault. Jared and Misha’s conversation was cut short and they stared at each other, wide-eyed.

“Geez,” Misha said. “Sounds like someone is having a flower emergency.”

“Sounds like the cops,” Jared joked, following Misha back into the main room of the shop. Whoever was knocking couldn't be seen through the raindrops coating the glass door. The effect was rather like looking through stained glass. Misha walked slowly to the door and unlocked it.

“I’m sorry, the shop is-“ Misha’s words were cut short as the person who had been knocking pushed their way into the shop. Jared was surprised to see that it was a woman. _Misha must know he_ r, he thought. _Otherwise he could have kept her out_.

“Misha Collins,” the woman said, tilting her head ever so slightly. Her long blonde hair tumbled forward over one shoulder. “You’re a hard man to find.”

“Am I now? That’s strange,” Misha re-locked the door, but did not move away from it. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest as if waiting to open the door for her again when she left. Jared felt out of place, hovering by the door to office. Misha hadn't introduced them, and Jared didn't know if he should introduce himself or wait for Misha to do it. The stranger’s eyes landed on Jared and swooped over him appraisingly, head to toe and back again.

“And you are?”

“Oh, um, hi, I’m Jared,” Jared pasted a smile over his uncertainty and held out a hand, taking a step toward the as yet unidentified woman. She looked at his hand as if there were bugs crawling on it. Jared double-checked his hand to make sure there weren't.

She turned her back on Jared, dismissing him. Jared frowned, not used to such an aggressive display of rudeness.

“So, Misha,” she said, running her hand along a shelf that held several plants in colorful ceramic planters. “The council wants to see you.”

Misha frowned, and it was a shock to see the man do anything other than smile. “You’re mistaken, Cassidy. The council wants to geld me, not see me.”

“It’s your own fault, Misha,” said Cassidy, pushing her hair over her shoulder. “You know you've brought this on yourself. And really, we should discuss this in private, not in front of one of the _many_.”

Jared wasn't positive, but he thought he’d just been insulted.

“What you can say to me you can say in front of Jared,” Misha said. His voice had gone unusually low, and the intensity in his eyes was a little scary. Misha was angry.

“Very well, it’s not like he’ll know what we’re talking about anyway,” Cassidy said, her voice flippant.

“Hey,” Jared said. “Cassidy, right? I don’t mean to be rude, but this is Misha’s shop, and you’re being kind of-“

“Actually, it’s Katie. Cassidy’s my last name,” Cassidy, no, Katie said.

“Sorry, Katie,” Jared said. He felt a little boggled by the strange turn in events.

“You can call me Agent Cassidy,” she replied, flipping a badge open and then shutting and pocketing it just as quickly.

 _Agent Cassidy? As in, FBI?_ And then, _Wait, as in the FBI agent who was looking for Misha at Jensen’s job? Here?_

Jared felt a wave of dizziness and he was grateful that he was standing close enough to the counter where the register sat to be able to balance himself on it.

“What the hell is going on, Misha?” Jared asked.

“Katie’s lying, she’s not FBI,” Misha said with derision.

“Okay, maybe not,” she rebutted. “But I am still an enforcer of the council law.”

“And I have not broken any council laws,” Misha said.

“Oh, and you accuse me of lying, Misha?”

“Nothing you can prove,” Misha spat. “Now get out.”

With a smirk that let them know exactly what she thought of Misha’s demand, Agent Cassidy pushed one of Misha’s ceramic pots off the shelf. It fell to the floor and broke into chunks.

“Oh, come on! This is a legitimate business, Cassidy!.” Misha shouted. He rushed over to where the pot had broken and scooped the small plant up into his hands, along with several clumps of dirt it was rooted in. “Don’t destroy my merchandise,” Misha said, and looked genuinely distressed about it. Jared had had enough.

“Okay, _Agent_ Cassidy,” he said, advancing on her. “That’s enough. You obviously came here, unwarranted, to harass my friend. He said get out, and now you need to leave.” He reached out with his hand, thoroughly intending to grasp her by the shoulder and force her from the shop. His fingertips only had time to lightly brush the shoulder of her suit jacket when she ducked out of his way, and when she stood back up, she had a gun aimed at Jared.

Panic flared through his entire body. He hadn't seen a gun, a real gun, in years, and all it brought to mind was the day Jensen had died. _Jensen, lying cold on a table and covered with a cloth, waiting to be positively identified at the hospital. Jensen, pale as death because death had claimed him. Jensen, lying in the coffin and gone. Gone. Gone._

“Jesus, Collins, some bodyguard you got there, if he melts to tears at the sight of a gun. Still, I see I made my point. You’ve been hopping an awful lot lately, and the council is concerned. If you come with me now, they might be lenient.” Cassidy’s voice broke through the fog of Jared’s panic attack, and he remembered to breathe.  
“You heartless-“ Misha began. Cassidy laughed.

“Bitch? Yeah I suppose I am,” she said. “Now, you’re coming with me right?”

“As soon as I tend to the damage you just caused.” Misha walked the plant over to the register and set it down gently. Turning, he picked up an empty clay pot from the shelf and set it next to the tiny, uprooted plant. . As for Jared, he was still frozen in place with his hands raised in the universal don’t shoot me position. His eyes kept darting back and forth between Misha, Agent Cassidy, the plant, and the gun. Misha looked at Cassidy and arched an eyebrow

“Put the gun away, Katie. I’ll come with you. Please?”

“Fine. Good,” Cassidy said, tucking the gun back into her waistband.

“Jared, can you come help me add soil to this plant before I leave with Katie?” Misha asked.

Jared wiped his forehead, embarrassed over his reaction and angry that this woman had pointed a gun at him.

“Well go on,” Cassidy said, fluttering her hands at Jared. “Help him with his little plant. Wouldn't want to harm his _legitimate business_.”

The corner of Misha’s mouth twitched as if he was trying to hide his amusement. Jared couldn't fathom what Misha found amusing in this scenario, but he walked the few steps it took to get to Misha to help with the plant. If he could help it, he wasn't going to let his friend leave with this gun-toting psychopath or let either of them get shot.  
The problem was, he couldn't imagine a way out of this that didn't involve one of them getting seriously harmed.

“My potting soil is in my office,” Misha said. Jared glanced over at the closed door to the office. Misha took a step toward the door, but it was aborted by Cassidy raising her gun again.

“Stay away from the damn door, Misha. Do I look stupid to you? The only door you’re going through is with me.” Her voice took on a menacing hiss, and Jared was amazed that this petite blonde woman could seem so dangerous.

“No, you don’t look stupid,” Misha said, his demeanor calm. “Jared, would you be so kind as to retrieve my bag of potting soil from the office for me? Since Katie doesn't seem to trust me to do it.”

Jared’s brow furrowed and he shrugged. “Sure,” he said, turning toward the door to Misha’s office. It was only a few feet away from the register and Jared didn't see what the big deal was. It wasn't like the agent was going to somehow lose Misha if she allowed him to retrieve his potting soil. He reached for the doorknob and his hand encased the smooth, cool metal.

And then, the world plunged into chaos.

Misha shouted, “Run!” as he lunged in Jared’s direction. His hand wrapped around Jared’s, turning the doorknob and using his momentum to swing the office door wide open.

Jared could never really find words to describe what happened next. He heard Cassidy scream in frustration and the loud crack of gunfire, but he couldn't really pay attention to that as the world shifted and spun. The edges of Jared’s vision turned green, and he felt a little sick. There was a split-second where he felt an electric shock pass over him and every hair on his body stood on end. They tumbled to the ground, and in the next moment Misha slammed the door behind them. The afternoon sun was blinding. _I’m outside? How am I outside?_

“Come on, Jared!” Misha urged as Jared scrambled to his feet, wiping grass from his clothing. Misha grabbed Jared’s hand and they took off running through a sunlit encampment of tents.

 _Wait, tents?_ Jared’s mind refused to process the change. He and Misha had ducked into Misha’s office. It had been raining outside and the crazy phony FBI Agent was shooting up the place. _Oh God_ , Jared thought as his long legs easily kept up with Misha’s pace, _We've been shot. Is this heaven?_ Strangely, Jared felt no pain.

“Misha, are we dead?” Jared called. Misha stopped running and let go of Jared’s hand.

“What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

Jared was not taking this well. “We went through your office door! We got shot at! Now we’re in a meadow? What the hell, Misha?”

Jared’s volume attracted the attention of the people in the tents, who started to emerge and looked at him curiously. Then they saw Misha and their curious, wary expressions broke into wide grins.

“Misha! Brother! Will you be staying long?” The man who approached them was a dead-ringer for Chad, if Chad dressed like a hippie and had hair long enough to pull into a ponytail.

“I need a door, Chad,” Misha said, urgently. Chad (and how could this be Chad?) motioned back the way they came.

“You mean besides the one you just came out of? I’m not gonna ask what you were doing in the outhouse with this giant piece of man-meat, but I didn't know you swung that way, man.”

Misha wrinkled his nose. Jared was too busy being flabbergasted to be offended. Then again – _man-meat? Okay, that’s just gross._

“If I were to bring a guest,” Misha said, “The absolute last place we would explore erotic communion would be in the outhouse. But no, I can’t use that door again for a while. It’s pointing to a bad place right now, and I need to not go back there.”

“I told Jim there was something wrong with the beans last night, man,” Chad groaned. “I think that door points to a bad place for all of us right now. You dig?”

“Boy, are you insulting my cooking?” an older man, apparently Jim, leveled a glare at not-Chad.

“Yessir, I do believe I am,” Chad grinned. Jim stalked over and cuffed the back of his head.

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with the beans,” he growled. “What’s wrong is that sorry excuse for moonshine you attempted to brew. We’re damn lucky we’re not all dead from it, and that’s a fact.”

Chad waved Jim off and turned back to Misha. “Over that hill over there is a storage shed. I mean, it has a door but I doubt you’ll both fit-“

“Thanks, man,” Misha said. “See you later.”

Misha grabbed Jared’s hand again and pulled him behind him as he took off running. Jared gave up on anything making sense and just followed.  
Chad had pointed them in the right direction. It wasn't too long before the little outbuilding appeared and Misha didn't hesitate as he opened the door and pulled Jared through it. Again there was that electric feeling, lasting not even a full second, and then Misha and Jared were emerging from an unknown building onto the familiar streets of Austin. It was raining and the sky was grey, and Jared realized they were a couple of streets away from Misha’s flower shop.

Jared suddenly couldn't breathe. His ribs must have shrunk or something, because he felt a band of iron around his chest that was worse than any panic attack he’d had so far.

“Come on, Jared, we have to get out of here,” Misha said, but Jared pulled his hand free of Misha’s and stopped walking.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck just happened.”

Misha stared at Jared, because Jared wasn't a swearing type of guy. Well, usually he wasn't.

“We can’t just stand out here on the street with our thumbs up our asses, Jared,” Misha said. “Look, I know I have some explaining to do, but not here. Come back to my place and I’ll tell you everything.”

Jared’s mouth tightened to a thin line, but he nodded.

Misha sighed and looked at the sky. “This was not how this was supposed to happen.”

 

***

  
“So,” Misha began. “This thing with Jensen? It’s kind of all my fault.”

“Kind of?” Jared was perplexed. He and Misha were safely (he hoped) hidden away in Misha’s apartment which was on the opposite side of town from both Jared’s apartment and Misha’s shop. Getting there had almost been an adventure, with Misha plotting how to get back to the shop to get his car without being spotted by Cassidy. Finally Jared just suggested they call a cab, and Misha beamed at him like that was the best idea in the history of ever.

Sitting across from Jared on a much nicer couch than the one in the shop, Misha squirmed. “Okay, not kind of. It is my fault. All of it. I accept the blame entirely.”  
With that proclamation, Misha sat up and squared his shoulders, as if taking the blame had removed a great weight from them. Jared’s eyebrows lifted.

“I’m still really confused here, Misha,” Jared said.

“Okay,” Misha sighed, and from the way he slumped it looked like the weight had come right back. “That thing that happened back there – where we went in the door and popped out in the camp? That’s called _hopping_. You can’t do it. I can. I can take a passenger, or two, with me as long as we’re touching skin to skin. Also, it has to be a door. I can’t just wiggle my nose and pop from one world to another.”

“Wait, so we _hopped_ from your office to a camp somewhere, and Chad was there but he didn't know me – God, he called me _man-meat_ and that is just not okay – but Chad was there, and so you can what, teleport? Did we teleport?”

Jared rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head into his hands, threading his fingers through his hair. “Misha, please tell me you slipped me some LSD.”

“Ha, no,” Misha said. “Okay, I’m going to give you the _See Spot Run_ version. Long story short, there are parallel dimensions. Some are almost exactly like this one, only with a few differences.”

Jared sat back on the couch and looked over to Misha. “And you can travel from one to the other, but you have to use a door,” Jared said. Misha nodded solemnly. “So that was a different world, and a different Chad, which is why he didn't know me.” Jared felt a pulse energy surge in his limbs and he stood, pacing again. “So then, Jensen is real, and alive! Oh, my God, Misha, that means you-“

Jared stopped in his tracks, frozen in place by thoughts that left him dumbstruck.

“Now you’re catching on,” Misha stated softly. Jared just stared. “When I was sixteen I found out that I am something called an _Only_. Most of us are discovered as such at birth, but for some reason I got through sixteen years thinking I was normal.”

Jared smirked. He couldn't help it. Misha smiled and then laughed, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Okay, you got me there. As normal as I ever was, I should say. Anyway, I was sixteen and in High School and all I wanted to do was go to the bathroom. Imagine my surprise when instead of the boys’ bathroom I walked into a Lamaze class full of pregnant women.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Jared said, after a moment. “Well, awkward, yes, but not traumatizing.”

“Well, the doorway I walked out of was their supply closet. They all assumed I’d been spying on them and the leader of the class said if I didn't get out right then, they would call the cops. I couldn't go back through the door I’d come through because of it being the supply closet. They escorted me out and it took a few hours of wandering around before I realized I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Um, metaphorically speaking, that is.”

Jared sat back down on the couch. “So, how did you get back?” Misha looked at the floor and chuckled.

“Well, I tried breaking back into the medical center where the class had been. I waited until dark and broke a window. I think I went back and forth through that supply closet door about twenty times. I did get it to work though, but only after I heard sirens outside. Guess breaking that window set off an alarm. So it was after dark, and I was back where I came from, but I was in the school, alone at night. It was, uh, a little creepy.”

Jared nodded, transfixed by the story. Part of him didn't want to believe Misha’s outlandish tale, but he’d seen it first-hand, unless Misha really _did_ dose him with something. That wasn't Misha’s style though.

“I spent the night in the school in the teachers’ lounge and got woken up by my science teacher. He wasn't too happy to find me there, but he saved my ass. He let me out of the school and told me to go home, and to take the day off. Needless to say my mother wasn't too pleased with my disappearance and didn't believe my story. I was too scared to try and prove it to her and I thought maybe I was going crazy. Around noon my mentor showed up – sent by the council to find the unknown Only who’d pinged their radar.”

“Pinged?” Jared wondered if that was the technical term.

“Yeah,” Misha replied. “Pinged. Like a blip, you know? We can all sense whenever another Only is on the move – when they hop from one dimension, or realm, to another. I usually ignore it, but some of us are really, really nosy and have to know what we’re doing at all times. Like Katie. We can track other Onlies into other dimensions but we can’t pin-point their exact location. It makes it very hard to hunt us down. Katie’s rather an expert at it, actually. It’s why the council employs her.”

“So, why do you call yourselves Only?” Jared wanted to know. “Are there a lot of people like you?”

Misha raised an eyebrow. “I’d think that the moniker of Only would imply that no, there’s not really that many of us. We’re called that because it’s very rare that one of us happens. In all the worlds, despite all the possibilities, each of us only exists in one realm. Meaning that I have no counterparts running around – no other Misha’s doing weird and random stuff. It gives me special abilities, and hopping from one realm to another is only one of them.”

“There’s more?” Jared squeaked, overwhelmed.

“Um, well, yes,” Misha admitted. “I’m uh, kind of, um, a shape shifter.”

“A shape shifter,” Jared echoed. “As in, you can change your shape?”

Misha looked at Jared like he was a couple of grapes short of a fruit salad. Jared wondered if that was a fair assessment – after all, it was a lot to lay on a guy. Especially on a day where they’d been shot at.

“Yes, I can shift into almost any shape, but it is limited to living creatures that exist in whatever realm I’m currently in. For instance, I could change into a unicorn if unicorns existed here, but since they don’t, I can’t.”

Jared ran his hand across his forehead as if it would settle all the thoughts rattling around in his head. “So, this council – why do they want to talk to you?”  
Misha gave an indignant snort. “They don’t want to talk to me. They want to imprison me.” Misha drew his feet up onto the couch, tucking his knees under his chin and wrapping his arms around his legs.

“But why?” Jared persisted. “You told Cassidy that you hadn't broken any laws.”

“And technically, I haven’t,” Misha said. “The problem is they think I have, and I don’t have any way to prove otherwise. So I’m just going to avoid them. Unfortunately this means my flower shop is going to have to close.” Misha sighed. “Maybe I should go to Los Angeles; try my hand at acting. What do you think?”

“Um – wouldn't that make it easy for them to find you?” Jared asked.

“Yes and no,” Misha said. “Yes, they could find me, but it would take a lot more to make a public figure disappear than a private one.”

Jared conceded the point. “But I still don’t understand why they think you broke laws. What do they think you did?”

“They think I’m endangering the universes by transporting people between realms. See, the rule is any one person can only exist in one dimension at a time – so you wouldn't be able to go to any other dimension where you already exist as a living entity. It would cause a serious rift in that particular universe that could potentially destroy it. It’s tantamount to genocide if you cause a universe to implode. It kills the Only responsible for it too, so obviously I’m not going to do that. You’d think they’d get that, but no.”

“So, that camp you ran us through earlier – no version of me exists in that dimension – um, I mean, _realm_?” It was a thought that made Jared’s stomach feel a bit like it was turning to jello.

“Exactly,” Misha said. “See I knew you were quick on the uptake.

“That’s so weird,” Jared breathed, and Misha laughed at him. “Why do you do it, if it gets you on a wanted list.”

“I like to help people,” Misha said. “You saw that couple in my shop when you first came in? What did you notice about them?”

Thinking back, Jared remembered the old fashioned clothes and the suspicious looks they had tossed his direction, and he told Misha so.

“Well, yes, there is that,” Misha said. “But they were an interracial couple. They’re new here. I brought them here from their realm to this one so they wouldn't get quite so much trouble for being together. Don’t worry, I know people, so they’re going to be taken care of until they can acclimatize to this society and its norms.”

“So, you can travel through time?” Jared asked.

“No, thank God,” Misha said. “Can you imagine how much chaos would be caused if we could? No, no time travelling for me or for any other Only. Time actually moves concurrently in the different realms – only in some realms, it’s the 1920’s, and in some realms, it’s the 1960’s.”

“The one we were in earlier?” Jared asked.

“Oh, um, 1971,” Misha said.

“Oh, ok,” Jared said weakly. He stood up and walked to the window. The rain had stopped, as near as Jared could tell. The sun had set and it was shaping up to be one of those really dark nights where artificial light was hard pressed to illuminate the darkness. Just then his stomach growled.

“Hey, why don’t we take a break from all this and order some take-out?” Misha suggested, softly. “Maybe have a beer or three?”

“Yeah,” Jared agreed. “Okay. Sounds good. And then – then I need you tell me how this all ties to Jensen.”

 

***

  
Jared was on his fourth beer and Misha was still nursing his first. The television wasn't on, but Jared stared at it as if it was. He stared at it like it was the most interesting damn show he’d ever watched. Misha had started fidgeting.

“Jared-“ Misha began.

“Yeah, okay,” Jared said. He took a deep breath and turned to face Misha. He took a long swig of his drink and then set the nearly empty bottle down on the coffee table. His face burned hot, and for a moment he wondered if it was from the alcohol or from the upcoming conversation.

Misha looked down at the floor and scuffed his foot against the corner of the area rug. “You’re my friend, Jared. An awesome friend, and Jensen was pretty cool too. Last year, after what happened – it was like your light was just extinguished. I knew there were other Jensen’s out there, but nearly all of the ones I found were already in a relationship. Mostly, with other yous. I think the two of you might actually be soul mates, because in almost every reality, you’re together. Sometimes just as friends, but usually, more than that.”

“So you, what, just found some other Jensen?” Jared was somewhere between intrigued and horrified. “Why now? It’s been a year since he died.”

“You weren't getting better, Jared,” Misha said in sad tone. “I couldn't just sit back and watch you deteriorate into nothing. I couldn't.”

Just then a thought occurred to Jared. “Wait, Jensen has a cat. A cat named _Misha_. Is that – are you? _Misha_?”

The corners of Misha’s mouth down-turned slightly, and he shrugged. “Guilty. To be fair though, it’s not like I _like_ spending time as a cat. Litter boxes are dis-“

“ _Misha_!” Jared exclaimed, trying to refocus Misha’s attention. “Why would you need to be his cat, anyway?”

“I didn't feel like taking the time that would be necessary to ingratiate myself to him as a human,” Misha explained. “It was much easier to appear to just be a stray cat for him to find.”

“Yes, but why?” Jared persisted, and it sounded a lot whinier once voiced than it did in his head.

“I established a psychic link between the two of you. The how of it isn't important, but to maintain it I needed regular contact with both of you. It’s probably what caught the council’s attention – me hopping back and forth all the time like that.”

“And you thought that was a good idea,” Jared said in a near-whisper. “You didn't think to ask if maybe either of us wanted this before you just _did_ it?”

“Would you have believed me?” Misha countered. His posture shifted to a slightly more defensive position. “Or would you have freaked out if I showed up on your doorstep one day with this Jensen? “

Jared shot a dark look in Misha’s direction. Of all of his conflicting emotions, roiling around in his belly like a roll of barbed wire, anger was the one that won out.

“So, essentially, what you did was establish a psychic link between me and a virtual stranger, and let us both think we were going crazy. You know, no one asked you to play my personal guardian angel.” Jared fought to keep his voice calm, even though he knew he was lashing out.

Misha’s face registered hurt for a split second before it reflected Jared’s anger back at him. “I never said I was anyone’s angel,” he said. His voice had lowered to a level that Jared hadn't ever heard before. He sounded a little menacing. “And I didn't give you a link to a stranger. I gave you a link to _Jensen_.”

“You gave me a link to a Jensen who doesn't know me! He visited my grave today! He met my sister – my dead sister, I might add! And what the hell, Misha? Why would you give me a link to a Jensen in another world from me? What purpose does that even serve, but to torment me? Now I can talk to Jensen – but he doesn't know me. He can’t even see me, except when we share dreams.”

“You share dreams?” Misha looked surprised, and then delighted. “I thought it might be possible but I never imagined . . .” Misha trailed off when he saw that Jared was still not happy with this turn of events.

“Can you sever the link?” Jared asked.

“But – why?” Misha sputtered. “Don’t you want to get to know this Jensen?”

“Just sever the link, Misha,” Jared demanded. “I can’t live like this. Everyone thinks I’m going crazy. I had a priest bless my apartment, for Christ’s sake. I thought I was being haunted – that the reason I couldn't move on was because-“ Jared’s voice hitched and he stopped talking. He hadn't meant to say that much. Misha blinked at him.

“Jared,” Misha said. His mouth was set in a grim line; such a contrast to the easy smile that usually sat there. “I’m sorry I caused you pain. My intentions were good. Do you really want me to sever the connection? Do you think Jensen would want that?”

“I-“ Jared stopped talking and bit his lower lip, hard, to distract himself from the emotions which threatened to spill from his eyes. “I don’t want to live with a shadow, Misha – and that’s what this Jensen is. He’s not _my_ Jensen. He’s like – a secondhand Jensen.”

“I’m pretty sure he’d take offense to that,” Misha replied. “He’s not a secondhand anything. If anything he’s a better-“

“Don’t!” Jared said, his eyes narrowing into slits. “Don’t you _dare_ say he’s a better version of my Jensen. My Jensen was perfect. Sure, he didn't have any fancy college degree and he wasn't living his dream but he was happy with me. I kept encouraging him to go for it – I’d have supported him even if he wanted to make frescoes out of pop rocks or whatever – as long as he was happy. I think he was happy. With me.” Jared couldn't control it anymore, no matter how hard he bit his lip and tears spilled over his lower eyelids and trailed down his cheeks. He wiped them away aggressively. “Just – leave me alone Misha. Sever the link.” With that Jared stalked toward the door.

“Jared, wait!” Misha called. Jared turned to face Misha, his eyes weary and his shoulders slumped. He wasn't sure what Misha could possibly say to redeem this situation and part of him wasn't sure he should stick around to find out.

“What, Misha?” Jared let every last bit of his exhaustion weigh those two words down. “I just- I can’t- with you right now, okay? I get that you wanted to help, but I can’t-“

“Jared, stop,” Misha said. “I can take you to him, if you want.”

Jared went still. His face suddenly felt hot and his hands felt strangely tingly. He felt a little stupid for not thinking of that option himself.

“Y-you can take me to him? Are you – do you mean that?”

“Of course,” Misha said. He looked slightly affronted. “I wouldn't have started this if I couldn't finish it. I always intended for you two to meet eventually – I thought you’d want to. I swear I didn't do this just to torment you, Jared. You’re my friend. And I’m yours – at least, I hope I still am.” The end of Misha’s little spiel was upended like a question and sounded hopeful. Jared felt a little bad for tearing into Misha, but only a little. He still felt a little angry. Misha had overstepped boundaries that Jared hadn't even known existed. Meet this Jensen? Like a blind date? Jared couldn't stop the wry smile that twisted up his lips.

“I’ll meet him on one condition, Misha. You go to him and you explain this. If he wants to meet me, fine. But you need to make sure he knows that I’m not looking for a replacement for my Jensen.”

“Deal,” Misha said. “Jared – before I do this – do you like this Jensen? He’s a good man and I think he really likes you. Actually I’m sure of it. I didn't set out to break his heart either, you know. He’s just as real as you are.”

Jared was taken aback. Of course he knew Jensen was real (or had been mostly convinced of it, in any case), but to hear Misha put it out there like that was startling. If Jared didn't know better, he’d have sworn that the ground under his feet had somehow tilted at a thirty degree angle; everything felt off-kilter.

“I know he’s real,” Jared said quietly. “And yes, I like him. He’s different, but in so many ways he’s the same. He’s not my Jensen – but I . . . I think he could be.” Jared fought valiantly to control the feelings of guilt that threatened him then.

“Tomorrow morning, then,” Misha said with a yawn. “I’ll go to Jensen tomorrow morning.”

Jared bit his lip.

“I should probably get home,” Jared said. “Don’t worry, I won’t spill the beans to Jensen. That’s all on you. At least now I know I’m not crazy or being haunted.” He looked at the floor and then looked back up at Misha. “For what it’s worth, Mish . . . thank you.”


	9. Chapter 9

 

“The only way to find true happiness is to risk being completely cut open.”  
-Chuck Palahniuk, _Invisible Monsters_  


  
 **IX**.  
 _Sunday, October 27_  


  
 _It was like watching a highlights reel; the sort of thing reality shows play when they’re saying good-bye to a contestant. Jensen and Jared’s Greatest Moments – and Jensen nearly felt them all. They came too fast to feel completely real, one right after another with no room for breathing in between._

 _Jensen stood under an oak tree somewhere in a city park. His back was against the trunk of the tree and something was poking his side through his shirt. He couldn't bring himself to care about that, though, because Jared was pressed close against him, his arms braced on either side of Jensen, and Jared leaned in just that little bit closer to cover Jensen’s mouth with his own. It was the first time they’d kissed, and while it wasn't perfect, Jensen thought it was close enough to perfect for him._

 

  
***

  
 _He was sitting at a table across from Jared, having what was supposed to be a romantic dinner. It was their third date and Jensen was busy worrying about whether or not Jared expected him to put out. Jensen wasn't quite sure he was ready for that, but he didn't want to lead Jared on, either. Neither did he want to lose Jared by holding out on him – he was really starting to fret about it when he found a chicken bone in his salad. His_ garden _salad, the side course that came with every entrée the restaurant served._

 _Jared looked mortified (probably because it had been his decision to bring Jensen here) and the wait staff and the chef and the manager had all come out individually to apologize to him and make it clear that Jensen’s dinner was free that evening. Jared took Jensen to Amy’s Ice Cream over on Burnet Road to make up for it._

 

  
 _***_  


  
 _By the fifth date they’d shared some pretty intense kisses and made out a time or two, stopping just short of finding a bedroom. Jensen could tell that Jared was waiting for Jensen to take things further. Jensen was feeling optimistic about where this relationship was heading and was ready to let Jared do whatever it was Jared wanted to do with his body (he was versatile, after all). So he surprised himself when, naked and writhing under an equally naked and writhing Jared, he’d put his hands on Jared’s chest and pushed._

 _“Wait,” he gasped out. “Before we go any further. Wait.”_

 _“Did I hurt you?” Jared worried, giving Jensen a quick glance up and down with lust-blown eyes._

 _“No,” Jensen laughed, because he wasn't delicate even if Jared was bigger than him. “No, you big goof, you didn't hurt me. I just-“ He groaned as Jared undulated his hips against Jensen’s own._

 _“Sorry,” Jared apologized. “Couldn't help it.”_

 _“Don’t,” Jensen panted. “Don’t apologize. Just – is this serious for you?” He waved his hand back and forth between them._

 _“God yes,” Jared breathed. “Jensen, it was serious for me when you said ‘can I help you find something’.”_

 _“Good,” Jensen said. “That’s good, because I’d really like my boyfriend to fuck me senseless.”_

 _Jared practically growled at that, and proceeded to do as asked._

 

  
 _***_  


  
 _Jensen pulled on the sleeves of his tuxedo nervously. The sleeves were the perfect length, having been tailored to his exact measurements, but Jensen tugged at them regardless. He never thought this day would come. Oh, certainly, he wasn't some girl who fantasized about her perfect wedding since childhood, but he had always wanted to get married. He just didn't think it would actually happen. At least not like this, in a formal setting with his and his groom’s family present. He always thought he’d have a drunken commitment ceremony, probably in a park, and probably only with his nearest friends in attendance. Then again, he never in his wildest dreams thought he’d manage to land someone as accomplished as Jared. He smiled. Sometimes, it still surprised him._

 _“Hey, Jensen,” Jared hissed in a whisper from the doorway. “I snuck away from the wedding patrol.” He gave Jensen a conspiratorial smirk as he pretended to tip-toe into the room where Jensen was getting ready. It was kind of silly. Jared had an entire gaggle of female friends from college and work who were treating Jensen like he was the bride – up to the part where they weren't going to allow Jared to see Jensen before the ceremony._

 _“God, wow, look at you,” Jared said, draping his long arms around Jensen and pulling him close. “You look gorgeous. How did I get so lucky?”_

 _“Lucky? You?” Jensen scoffed. It still made him uncomfortable when Jared treated Jensen like he was some precious thing that Jared had found. He knew Jared meant it, but it was hard to believe. Jensen just knew that Jared was going to wake up one day and realize he’d made the worst mistake of his life._

 _“Hey, stop that,” Jared said. He started dropping tiny kisses all over Jensen’s face, peppering them here and there like he was trying to kiss every freckle. “Stop doubting yourself; doubting us.” He pulled away and leveled a serious look at Jensen._

 _“We’re getting married. I’m marrying you. I don’t have any doubts about who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I hope you don’t either.”_

 _“I don’t,” Jensen said, grasping the back of Jared’s neck and hauling him in for a real, deep kiss. Just then Jared’s flock of friends entered with disapproving expressions and dragged him away. Jensen watched with a fond smile._

 

 _***_

  
 _Jensen stood in a long hallway. Beneath his feet the tile floor gleamed in the fluorescent lighting. He took a step, and the lights flickered. On each side of the hallway were doors, thick wooden doors with industrial type handles instead of classic doorknobs. All of the doors were shut, and Jensen felt something like dread settle in his stomach._

 _At the end of the hall were a set of double doors. These were crafted of metal instead of wood, and in each a window was set. The windows reflected the light and the effect made Jensen feel like the door had eyes. As if the door was watching him. He took another step towards the door at the end of the hallway. Once again the lights flickered, and this time the doors on either side of him opened with a soft creak. Jensen felt like his stomach dropped out. A strange rustling sound could be heard behind the door, almost like something being dragged, and Jensen didn't want to know. He started walking, and with every step the lights flickered and sizzled like someone had splashed water on a hot burner. Every time he passed a door it clicked open and swung inward._

 _Jensen didn't dare look behind him. For all he knew he was being followed by a very quiet zombie horde, just waiting for him to turn so they could pounce. The doors started to shake, and Jensen started to run. Finally, finally, he reached the end of the hallway and pushed through those double doors, and felt relief as they swung shut behind him. Was he mistaken, or had something whispered the word No as the door shut? It hung on the air – a ghostly moan._

 _He was in a large, empty room. No, not empty. In the center of a room was a long table covered with a sheet. There was something lumpy under the sheet, and Jensen shivered. He wasn't stupid, he recognized the human form when he saw it, and that was definitely what was under that sheet. The overhead lamp, the only source of illumination in the room, began to sway gently._

 _His heart began to pound, because wanted to be anywhere except in this room, but he wouldn't go back into that hallway. Slowly, wanting to get this over with, whatever it was, he walked toward the table. Another shape formed next to the table, and Jensen felt ridiculously relieved when he realized it was Jared._

 _“Jared,” he breathed. “Thank God. What – what is this place?”_

 _“It’s the hospital,” Jared whispered. He was hunched over the table, his tall form nearly folded in half to rest his elbows on the cold metal surface. His hands covered his face and his hair covered his hands._

 _“Jared,” Jensen said, reaching out. He didn't dare touch the table or reach across it to touch Jared. “Is that – is that me?”_

 _He looked down at the fabric covering the body. A bloom of crimson blossomed from the center and spread outwards, and in the center it pulsated up and down like a heartbeat._

 _“No, it’s not you,” Jared said. He lowered his hands and lifted his face. His eyes were puffy and red rimmed. He rubbed the back of his hand across his nose and sniffed. “It was never_ you _.”_

 _“Um – okay,” Jensen agreed. He could feel the anger rolling off of Jared in waves. Jared looked back down at the table, and gently folded back the sheet to show Jensen what he knew was there but didn't want to see. He looked down at his own corpse, pale and peaceful. It was eerie, to see himself like this. But Jared had been clear that this wasn't him. He looked back up to Jared, who was staring at Jensen like he wasn’t sure whether to be angry at him or not. It was a look he’d seen on his mother’s face often, and easily recognizable._

 _Jared turned his gaze to the corpse, and his look softened. He ran his hand down Dead-Jensen’s face._

 _“God, Jensen, I loved you so much,” he mourned._

 _Jensen’s heart ached. “He loved you too, you know. I wish – I wish I could be him for you.”_

 _Jared’s head snapped up, and right at that moment a loud crack resounded through the room. The walls showed the damage, with large rends that started at the floor and snaked toward the ceiling. One of the corpse’s arms had swung down from under its covering, swinging off the edge of the table in rhythm with the light overhead. Jensen jumped back a pace._

 _The fingers, cold and grey, twitched and curled and with a rasping inhalation, the corpse sat up. The fabric sheet fell to its waist, exposing the gaping wound left by the gunshot as it turned and swung its legs over the edge of the table. It fixed Jensen with a blank stare and gasped that horrible rasping inhalation again. Cognizance flooded its eyes and it stared at Jensen with eyes that should have been green, but were about as far removed from their normal color as possible. Its eyes were the color of milk spilled on a green surface and spread thin. Jensen’s breath quickened along with his heart. He wouldn't be surprised if his heart fluttered out of his chest like a frightened bird._

 _“You would take what was mine,” the thing sitting up on the table said, and its voice was cracked and dusty. “You would take what was mine and leave my memory as ashes.”_

 _“No,” Jensen denied. “I didn't ask for this.”_

 _“But still, you would take it,” Dead-Jensen said. His tone was at once both sad and accusatory._

 _Jensen looked at Jared, who stood impassively behind the body of his re-animated husband as if things like this happened every day._

 _“You had your time with him,” Jensen finally said, amazed when his voice didn't shake. “Your time with him is over, and if I could have him – really have him, the way you did, I would. God, I would.”_

 _Jared looked over at Jensen, his eyes wide._

 _“You would?” his lips moved but the sound didn't quite make it out of his mouth._

 _“Traitor,” Dead-Jensen said with an angry hiss. “You’d leave me and abandon my memory?”_

 _“No, Jensen, never,” said Jared. His eyes filled up with tears and he blinked furiously. “I love you. I’d do anything to have you back.”_

 _“You’d replace me with a stranger!” said Dead-Jensen. He pushed himself to a standing position. “And then you’d pretend you still had me!”_

 _“No!” Jared denied. “No, I’d never do that.”_

 _“And yet here we are,” Dead-Jensen replied. He took a step towards Jensen and as he did so, the wound on his chest began to bleed. It didn't gush; just steadily seeped down Dead-Jensen’s body as the corpse advanced on Jensen._

 _“Stay away from me!” Jensen demanded, retreating from the dead thing that kept taking shaky steps towards him. He backed away, then further away, until he was nearly pressed against the double doors he’d entered the room through. He gave one thought to returning to the hallway and glanced through the windows. Or rather, he tried to glance through the windows, but the view was obscured by pale, dead hands grasping and sliding against the glass, leaving streaks of gore and bits of viscera in their wake._

 _Well, that decided that. He turned and faced Dead-Jensen, who lunged at him. The corpse was surprisingly agile, and surprisingly strong. Jensen found himself on his back with the corpse straddling him._

 _“I’ll kill you before you replace me,” Dead-Jensen hissed in Jensen’s face. “You cannot replace me! I won’t allow it!”_

 _Jensen fought for his life, grappling against Dead-Jensen as they each fought for dominance over the other. Dead-Jensen didn't fight fair, pulling a move from every zombie-flick ever and trying to rip out Jensen’s throat with his teeth._

 _“Enough!” Jared finally roared. “That’s enough – both of you!”_

 _Both Jensens froze; Jensen on his back again with Dead-Jensen grasping his wrists and pressing them tightly to the cold tile floor. Jared stormed over and grasped Dead-Jensen under the armpits, lifting him off of Jensen like he was a wayward child simply throwing a tantrum._

 _As he did so, the scenery changed, and Dead-Jensen changed as well. The hospital walls gave way to trees bursting with green leaves, and the floor changed to a mix of dirt, bark, and stubbly grass. Jensen recognized this place. This was the park, the tree where Jared and Jensen had shared their first kiss. Color returned to Dead-Jensen and the wound disappeared. His nudity was covered by jeans and a soft, long-sleeved sweater over a simple white t-shirt._

 _“Jensen,” Jared breathed, pulling Dead-Jensen close, and Jensen felt the hateful sting of jealousy flare deep inside his gut. He did his best to ignore it, but it was definitely there. He licked his lips and looked around, trying to ignore the happy couple in front of him. As much as he tried, his eyes kept flicking back to the two of them, holding each other close in what was one of their sacred spaces. Jared leaned over and kissed Dead-Jensen, and it was a solemn kiss, and maybe, just maybe, a good-bye kiss._

 _“Jared,” Dead-Jensen whimpered. “I don’t – don’t let me go. Please.”_

 _“I have to, Jensen. I do. What I’m doing now – it’s not living.”_

 _“But we made vows,” Dead-Jensen protested, staring up at Jared with too-wide eyes. “You swore to me-“_

 _“Yes, Jensen,” Jared said, holding tighter to Dead-Jensen. “We did make vows. Do you remember what they were?”_

 _“’Til death,” Dead-Jensen sobbed, burying his face in Jared’s neck. Jensen’s jealous feelings shriveled away; he couldn't be jealous of a dead man. To be jealous of a memory wasn't fair to either Jared or to Dead-Jensen._

 _“’Til Death,” Jared echoed, his voice broken. “And we kept those vows. We did. But I might have a chance here, Jen. A chance to move on, to find something new and wonderful. I will never forget you. I swear that I won’t.”_

 _Dead-Jensen didn't say anything; he just snuffled against Jared’s neck. “I know, baby,” he said, stroking his long fingers through Dead-Jensen’s hair. “I know.” It was, apparently, all Jared needed to say. They stayed like that for a long moment, before Dead-Jensen pulled away. He turned to face Jensen with a sad smile on his face, and the tracks that his tears had made down his face glistened in the sunlight._

 _“Take care of him for me,” he said. “Or I swear I’ll haunt your ass.”_

 _Jensen gave a small, quiet laugh at that. “Deal,” he said. “If we can find a way, I promise I’ll take care of him.”_

 _Dead-Jensen took a step back, and Jared turned to look at him. Dead-Jensen gave that same sad smile to Jared and pushed firmly on Jared’s back, forcing him to take a stumbling step towards Jensen._

 _“Go, you big goof,” he said. “Be happy. Be loved.”_

 _And with that his form faded out and disappeared. Jensen stood uncertainly where he was, unsure what he should do next. Did he go to Jared, or wait for Jared to come to him? He screwed up his courage and closed the distance between himself and Jared, where they wrapped their arms around each other as the dream itself faded away._

 

***

  
When Jensen woke up, he was sitting up in bed with the covers thrown aside. He sat there for a minute, letting his thoughts settle and reassuring himself that he had, in fact, been dreaming. His mouth hung slack while he gasped for breath as if he’d been running, or fighting. By and far that had been the creepiest dream Jensen ever remembered having. His skin felt like it was crawling, and so he flung himself out of the bed and hurried to the shower.

Not waiting for it to warm up, he jumped in, letting the shock of cold water wake him fully and distract him from the horrifying images lingering from the dream. Had he really fought the corpse of himself over Jared? Had Jared seen that dream? Jensen leaned forward into the spray, letting it stream over his face. He breathed deeply, making sure not to inhale the water, and let it calm him. _It was just a dream_.

Feeling a little better, he finished showering and shaved, dressed himself and then walked out of the bedroom towards the living room, ready for another day of hearing Jared. He was actually looking forward to it; looking forward to learning more about Jared. Crazy, yes, but Jensen was willing to make do with what he had, until something better (something real?) came along. He scoffed at himself. More like until Jared came along. Jared was what he wanted.

As he entered the living room from the hallway, the first thing he noticed was the impala statue on the floor – again. Cursing, he ran over and picked up the statue, checking it for damage before setting it back on the mantle. Maybe he could glue it down, or find another spot for it, or-

Someone was sitting on his couch. Slowly, Jensen turned to face him. It was no one Jensen knew, but he looked familiar with his tousled dark hair and dark blue eyes. He was smiling.

“Jensen, if you want an impala, might I suggest the vehicular version rather than that. . .” the man twirled his finger around in the air as he gestured at the statue, “. . . monstrosity right there.”

“Dammit!” Jensen swore. “I paid three hundred dollars for that! And who are you, anyway? How did you get into my apartment? Oh god, I need to call the cops.”  
Jensen plunged his hand into his pocket, fumbling for his phone and not finding it. The man leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs, casting a pointed glance at the table where Jensen’s phone lay. Jensen didn't think he could get to it before the intruder could.

“Jensen, calm down, I’m Misha,” the guy said, but he may as well have been speaking a foreign language because that made no- wait, _Misha_? Jensen studied this Misha’s face with wide eyes, realizing that yes, this was the guy that FBI agent had been looking for.

“You’re a wanted felon!” Jensen exclaimed, and then thought, _Oh, shit, I probably shouldn't have let on that I knew that._ Lunging, he grabbed his phone, relieved. Misha didn't move.

“I am not a wanted felon! Where did you even get that idea?” Misha tilted his head, considering. “Ah, I know. _Agent_ Cassidy stopped by, didn't she? When?”

“Katie?” Jensen’s mind was not keeping up and he was starting to feel a little slow. His fingers were poised over the screen of his phone, ready to dial 911 but he kept getting distracted. Misha noticed.

“Oh, would you give me that and try to catch up, Jensen?” Misha moved faster than Jensen expected and in the next moment his phone was grabbed from his hand and set back on the coffee table.

“Look, I’m not dangerous and I’m not a felon. Actually, I’m your cat.” Misha looked incredibly happy about that, and that was it. Jensen was over it.

“M-my cat? Are you serious?” Jensen grabbed for his phone again but was blocked by Misha. They both hit the floor in a flurry of arms and legs as Jensen struggled for his phone and Misha did his damnedest to make sure that Jensen couldn't reach it. The fight felt more like a wrestling match between two thirteen year old boys than an out and out brawl.

“Would you calm down?” Misha panted. “Just let me talk and then if you still want to call 911 you can, okay?”

“Get off me!” Jensen hissed, pushing Misha away. “Fine, I’ll listen to you, but you make one wrong move and I’m calling the feds.”

Misha snorted, but climbed off of Jensen regardless. He sat back on the couch, as casual and pleasant as ever.

“I suggest you have a seat,” Misha said. “Actually, maybe go make yourself some coffee, and then have a seat. This might take a while."

 

***

  
Jensen felt – well, he didn't really have words for what he was feeling. The warmth from his coffee cup seeped through the ceramic and into the palms of his hands, giving him something physical to focus on, something that was normal and not a crazy intruder claiming to be his cat. Speaking of the cat, Jensen fervently hoped this guy hadn't hurt Kitty-Misha.

“So, I know Jared,” Misha said. Jensen was relieved he’d just swallowed his mouthful of coffee. The last thing he needed right now was to spit hot coffee all over himself.

“You – you know _Jared_?” Jensen echoed. It wasn't the most intelligent thing he could have said, but given the circumstances he felt it didn't matter all that much.

“Yes, Jared,” Misha said. “Widower, all-around great guy and probably, had he lived in this world, would have been your husband. Or best friend – it varies from world to world.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jensen said, holding up a hand. “If you know Jared _there_ , wherever _there_ is, how the hell are you here now? And what do you mean – you were my _cat_?”

Jensen sat and listened while Misha explained everything to him. It made no sense. It was impossible, and yet, part of Jensen hoped this Misha wasn't full of shit. The more Misha talked, the more uncomfortable with the situation Jensen became. The lack of consent, just assuming that Jensen would jump into Jared’s arms (he practically had, but that was beside the point), all of the puzzle pieces coming together didn't make a pretty picture. Misha stopped talking when he noticed Jensen’s frown.

“You too, huh?” Misha sighed. “Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. This was kind of a rush job. I was going to give you two time to get to know each other and then introduce you to him.”

“But - you can’t just replace someone!” Jensen insisted, the dream from last night replaying in his head. “I may be Jensen but I am not _his_ Jensen. This is insane! You can’t just – just implant me with memories and expect me to waltz in and replace his husband!”

“I don’t expect anything of the sort!” Misha snapped. “But I know you’re lonely, Jensen. And Jared, you’re not moving on at all. It’s like you can’t. I don’t think either of you were supposed to die. I've been to so many dimensions, guys, and you want to know something? In every dimension where you are part of each others’ lives, you’re _happy_. Jared, before Jensen died, were you happy?”

Jensen heard a soft intake of breath.

“Jensen, I was – I was _so_ happy,” Jared said. Jensen looked at Misha. It was incredibly strange to hear Jared interacting with someone else.

“I didn't think he was still here,” Jensen said. After all, he’d not heard from Jared all morning. “I thought maybe, that he’d-“

“I’m here, Jensen,” Jared said, and Jensen felt his nerves calm. Jensen blew out a breath he hadn't realized he’d been holding. Good. Jared was still there, and that was good.

“Are you familiar with the concept of soul mates?” Misha asked. Jensen arched an eyebrow.

“Of course I am,” he said. “Who isn't?”

“I think that you and Jared are,” Misha said. “Jared, what do you think?”

“I – uh, I,” Jared stuttered. Misha laughed.

“Jensen, would you be willing to let me bring Jared here to meet you? Just for one day, for twenty-four hours. See how you two get on. See, the thing is, I need to disappear for a while, and I don’t want to leave you two hanging.”

“Yes,” Jensen said without even thinking about it. “Yes, if he wants to. I’d love to have him here.”

“Very well,” Misha said, standing. “Jared, are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Jared said. Misha nodded.

“I’ll be back in a jiffy,” he said, and then walked out of Jensen’s apartment. Jensen sat on his couch expectantly, wondering how long a jiffy would be. Certainly Misha had to work some sort of powerful magic that would probably take a while, so-

Jensen was startled from his thoughts by the door opening and Misha sauntering through, pulling what looked to be a very nervous Jared behind him. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder, probably had his pajamas in there and his toothbrush, and Jensen found that absolutely _adorable_.

“Jared,” Jensen breathed as he stood up. This was unreal, just an absolute impossibility. Jared whispered Jensen’s name back at him, and instead of rushing into each other’s arms like a romantic movie cliché, they stood and stared at each other.

“Holy _shit_ , Jared,” Jensen said.

“Yeah,” Jared replied, and that was the perfect response. At least Jared seemed as freaked out by this as Jensen was.

“Alright, you two, have fun,” Misha said. He looked at his watch. “I’ll return in exactly twenty-four hours to take Jared back to his place. I’m going to go hop around a bit, say hi to some friends and try not to let Katie catch me.” Misha’s expression suddenly turned serious.

“Jared, you know it’s my intention to let the two of you work this out. Jared could move to this world. But you have to know there is a risk here – if Katie manages to apprehend me before I come back to fetch Jared, he’ll be stuck here. Jensen, I have to know that you won’t put him out on the street if you two don’t click and I can’t get back to take him home.”

“I’d never do that!” Jensen snapped, insulted.

“I didn't think you would,” Misha said. “It’s not in your nature, but I had to be perfectly clear. Crap, Katie’s in this world somewhere, I have to go. If she comes by here, you still don’t know me and Jared – you’ve never seen me before in your life. Think you’re a good enough actor to sell that lie?”

“Um, yeah, I think so,” Jared said, but he sounded uncertain. Misha nodded and with that, was once again out the door.

“So,” Jared said, setting his backpack on Jensen’s couch. He sat down, rigid, the palms of his hands pressed flat against the tops of his thighs.

“So,” Jensen responded, brilliantly.

“So this is weird,” Jared finally said, lifting his eyes to meet Jensen’s. He flexed his fingers against his jeans, his fingernails catching on the denim and making a soft scratching sound. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jensen said. He stood across from where Jared sat, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't sure what the protocol for this type of visit was, or if there even was a protocol for this type of visit.

“Well,” Jared said, looking back down at his hands. “You've got me for the next twenty-four hours or so.”

“Looks like,” Jensen said, and he felt like the awkwardness was about to physically manifest and smother them both. “You want to go do something?”

Jared stood and stretched, his already tall body growing incredibly longer. Jensen couldn't help but admire the lanky man in front of him and wanted to touch – _really_ touch him. None of that dreaming crap they’d been putting up with. It was just, with it being real now, everything intimate they’d done in the dreamscape now seemed _too_ intimate, too soon.

Jensen licked his lips and drew his bottom one between his teeth, chewing on it unmercifully. He had no idea what to do. In theory, it shouldn't be this awkward. He stood there completely lost in his thoughts for a few moments. He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Jesus, Jared, you snuck up on me!” Jensen exclaimed, feeling a little like an idiot. The smile that appeared on Jared’s face was a little mocking, and still somehow sweet.

“I snuck up on you?” Jared asked softly. He was so close; definitely in Jensen’s space bubble. “I can see how you’d miss me sneaking up on you from the front like that. I am a master of stealth, after all.”

“Shut up,” Jensen chuckled, half-heartedly pushing at Jared’s chest. Wow, that was a firm chest. _That was – that’s nice_ , Jensen thought and tried to curb thoughts like that. “Um – what do you want to do?”

He looked up at Jared, curious as to what his answer would be. Jared was staring at him again, like he was going to vanish into thin air at a moment’s notice.

“I’d really like to kiss you, Jensen,” Jared said. “Is that okay? Can I?”

Jensen felt his stomach flutter a bit. He knew that Jared had to feel at least a bit conflicted about his feelings for him, and Jensen still wasn’t sure he was not being offered up as some sort of replacement, but he wanted this. At the end of the day, he wanted _Jared_.

He nodded and that was all it took, it seemed, for Jared to wrap his arms around Jensen and pull him close. In the next second Jared’s mouth found and claimed Jensen’s. It was fairly chaste at first, just a gentle meeting of lips. Underneath, however, a bed of coals lay slowly smoldering, and when Jared’s tongue snaked out and barely lapped at Jensen’s bottom lip, bitten red from earlier, Jensen pressed forward and opened his mouth against Jared’s. His breath hitched and Jared gave a small, abbreviated moan that caused the coals to flare brightly and ignite.

Reluctantly, they parted.

“God, Jensen, how is this even real?” Jared asked. His hands had moved to cradle Jensen’s face and tilted it up,

“I don’t know,” Jensen said, and then Jared was kissing him again, and this time it wasn't chaste, not by any means. Once again, Jared pulled away.

“I know what I want to do,” Jared said. “I want to get to know you. I want you to get to know me. Show me around. Show me where you went to school. Show me where you like to hang out. I want to know everything about you.”

Jensen smiled like it was the best idea ever, and perhaps it was.

 

  
***

  
Jensen picked at his salad, looking through it carefully, picking up each leaf and peering beneath it before finally spearing a forkful to eat. When he looked up at Jared, he noticed that Jared was giving him a strange look.

“What?” Jensen asked around his mouthful of food, and then cringed because he didn't usually talk with his mouth full. Jared gave a small, amused laugh.

“It’s just – why were you looking through your salad like that?”

“Oh, you know, just don’t want to find a chicken bone or anything. You can’t be too careful, is all.”

Jared’s eyes went wide. “How did – did you? But you’re not-“

Jensen blinked, and then remembered the chaos of his dreams last night. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just had a dream last night where I found a chicken bone in my salad, and now I’m a little paranoid.”

“But that actually happened,” Jared breathed. “On our third date.”

“I thought it might have been real,” Jensen said. “Some of the dreams I had were more like memories – _his_ memories. I know Misha said he made a link between you and me, but I probably should have asked about that. A link between us does not explain me getting a front row seat to the memories of Jensen the First.”

Jared smiled. “Jensen the First, huh?”

Well, it was certainly better than _Dead-Jensen_ , but Jensen wasn't going to voice that nickname. Jensen looked at the time on his phone – the day was going by too fast. Here it was lunchtime and he and Jared had spent the morning just talking to each other, laughing and telling anecdotes of school. Sometimes Jared would pause and just stare at Jensen, usually after he’d told him something that was brand-new to Jensen but must have been old hat to Jensen the First. That look was usually a precursor to a long, lingering kiss which did nothing but tease Jensen. They’d finally left for lunch when Jensen offered to take Jared to his favorite local diner.  
Jensen’s phone buzzed. He ignored it, preferring to focus on Jared and their limited time together, but it kept buzzing so he finally apologized to Jared and checked his texts. There were about five from Chris, all spaced about ten minutes apart.

 _-Hey lazy ass, come help me clean my bar.-_

 _-Don’t ignore me. I know you can work a broom.-_

 _-It’s not like you have anything better to do. C’mon-_

 _-You better be ignoring me for a good reason. Like, sex-_

 _-You’re totally getting laid aren't you? I’m coming over. Wanna see the piece of tail you’re ignoring me for-_

“Shit,” Jensen cursed.

“Everything okay?” Jared asked, wide eyed. It amazed Jensen that someone that big could look so innocent.  
“Yeah, my friend Chris is being a douche,” Jensen muttered. Jared brightened.

“I know Chris!” he said, and practically bounced. Jensen smiled, but then Jared deflated. “Oh wait, no, I don’t. Not here, anyway. Wow, that’s so weird.”

“You want to meet him?” Jensen asked. He didn't really want to offer, wanted to keep Jared to himself, but he wasn't sure he could dissuade Chris from coming over if he set his mind to it. It was Sunday afternoon and he knew Chris had nothing better to do.

“Sure,” Jared said, looking a little dazed.

Jensen texted Chris back.

 _-Are you at your bar now? Don’t come over. Not home. I’ll come to you and bring my friend with me-_

Chris’ reply made Jensen smile.

 _-He any good at paintin?-_

 

  
***

  
Jensen strolled into the space Chris had leased, looking around. Jared had hung back, nervous and shy about meeting him, but Jensen figured that if Jared was considering moving here, he’d need to meet Jensen’s friends sooner or later. This was definitely _sooner_.

Jensen looked around the room with a keen eye, noting the changes that would have to be made before Chris could open for business. It was a narrow space, longer than it was wide with a staircase that let up to the rooftop patio next to the bar. The wallpaper was old and peeling, and if Jensen judged correctly, had smoke damage.

“Chris!” Jensen called. “I think you need to do more than just paint this place!”

Chris’ head popped up from behind the bar and he grinned at Jensen.

“Yeah, I know. The previous place closed after some drunk idiot lit a fire in the corner. I don’t know how they did it, but they did. Hey, would it be tacky to name my bar _En Fuego_? Kind of an homage to the previous business.”

“That’s tacky as hell, Chris,” Jensen said. “And probably not karmically sound.”

“Yeah, I was afraid you’d say that. Hey, where’s your friend?” Chris waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Jensen rolled his eyes. He looked around for Jared, but he still hadn't come into the bar.

“I think you scared him off,” Jensen said as he walked quickly back to the entrance. “Jared! Come in here.”

He held the door open while Jared ducked inside, a sheepish smile on his lips. Jensen looked back at Chris and saw his eyes go wide.

“Wait, Jared?” Chris walked right up to Jared, completely disregarding his personal space and stared up into his face. Jared looked nervous and took a step back.

“Can you not be creepy, Chris?” Jensen admonished.

Chris’ eyes darted over to Jensen. “What the hell is going on, Jensen? Is he – is that? But I-“

“It’s a long story,” Jared said. “I’m Jared. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand with a big friendly smile, but Jensen could see the nervousness lingering in his eyes. Chris smiled and shook Jared’s hand, and the tension fled. Jensen sighed in relief.

“Alright then, Jared,” Chris said. “You can tell me when you’re ready. Sorry, I didn't mean to come off rude. I’m Chris. Me an’ Jenny went to college together.”

Jared laughed. “Jenny? He lets you call him Jenny?”

“I don’t let him do anything,” Jensen muttered. “But I guess it’s better than Jen-Jen.”

“Jen-Jen?” Jared echoed again. Jensen groaned.

“That’s another long story,” Jensen said. “And one I’m glad is over.”

“So Jared,” Chris said, changing the subject. “You any good at manual labor?”

“Oh no,” Jensen disagreed. “He’s spending the day with me. I wanted you to meet him. You know, just to prove I wasn't schizophrenic or anything.”

Jared’s eyes went a little wide. “He knows?”

Jensen nodded. “Well, yeah, I did take him to San Antonio with me.”

Jared kind of swayed on his feet a little as the implications of that washed over him. Chris brought over a bar-stool.

“Here, son,” he said. “Sit down before ya fall down.”

Jared sat as instructed. “Oh God, Jensen, my family – my sister – they’re alive here. Do you think I could ever?”

Jensen and Chris exchanged dubious glances.

“I can’t imagine that going over well,” Chris said, pursing his lips. “I mean, I don’t know how the hell you got here, and you damn sure better not be playin’ my boy Jensen somehow, but I’m guessin’ all this,” and Chris made wavy motions with his hands toward Jared to express the words he apparently couldn't verbalize, “ain’t exactly common knowledge.”

Jared deflated a little. “No, you’re right, it’s a bad idea.”

“A _phenomenally_ bad idea,” Chris agreed. Jensen, for his part, didn't like to see Jared look so defeated.

“Hey, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? _If_ we come to it.” After all, Jared was only visiting. Jensen wondered if Misha would sever their psychic connection once he’d returned Jared to his home world. He felt a sad sort of weight settle in his stomach.

Jensen remained quiet while Jared and Chris chatted back and forth amiably. It was apparent that if Jared did decide to move over to this world that he and Chris would get along famously. Still, all of this was rushed – _too_ rushed, and Jensen felt a bit like someone had unfastened his safety harness on a roller coaster ride. What if Jared decided to come over here and regretted it? What if Misha was wrong and Jared wasn't his soul mate? There were so many questions floating around Jensen’s mind, and none of them were pleasant. There was always a risk of failure in any relationship – hell, look at him and Jennifer. Everyone had thought they’d last. People had called them soul mates.

What if Jared gave everything in his old life up, and they ended up hating each other?


	10. Chapter 10

“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”

 ― Frank Herbert

**X.**  
 _Sunday, October 27_

  
After leaving Chris’ bar, with promises to return and help him with the repairs (on Jensen’s part at least), they meandered around downtown, sharing anecdotes and taking in the sights. It was bizarre, this world. It was so similar, but Jared noticed tiny, almost inconsequential differences. The Frost Bank Tower hadn't experienced the lightning storm last spring that all but devastated the iconic crown of the building, causing it to be rebuilt. In Jared’s world they’d held a contest to design the new crown of the building and now it looked completely different. It was nice to see the old crown still intact here. It felt _right_ and a little nostalgic, like he’d stepped back in time instead of across worlds.

The day could not have been a more beautiful autumn day. The air outside was a comfortable temperature and the blue sky showed only the barest wisps of clouds. Jared tilted his head back and let the sun soak into his skin, only opening his eyes when he felt Jensen’s hand on the small of his back. He grinned at Jensen, and then noticed the other differences in the Austin city skyline. There were a few buildings that Jared didn't recognize.

Jared asked Jensen if he’d designed any of the unfamiliar buildings and Jensen blushed and pointed to a condominium tower that was being erected down by the river. It wasn't complete and still had its scaffolding surrounding it, but Jared could see that it was going to be a beautiful building. He’d said as much, and Jensen blushed even deeper. Jared wanted to touch Jensen’s red ears and see if they felt as warm as they looked, but he restrained himself. Jensen’s hand moved from Jared’s back and grabbed his hand, pulling him along behind him when Jensen started walking again, effectively changing the subject. Jensen was modest about his work, and Jared found it endearing.

On one of the side streets they happened upon a vacant lot where a little craft fair had been set up, and a lot of college students were lounging on the grass. Jared glanced from student to student and realized that most of them were wearing a particularly dark shade of orange.

“Why are they all wearing orange?” Jared wanted to know, wondering if it was for a cause or something. When Jensen explained that UT’s colors in Austin were burnt orange and white, Jared was amazed.

“You mean it’s not green and blue?” Jared asked. Jensen gave him the strangest look, and then laughed.

“No, orange and white all the way. You know if you move here you’ll have to start bleeding burnt orange, right?”

“That’s so weird,” Jared breathed. UT was his alma mater, and all of his college paraphernalia boasted green and blue.

“Seriously, green and blue?” Jensen asked, mirroring Jared’s incredulity. Jared nodded.

“Yeah, you know,” Jared said, even though Jensen obviously didn't. “Green for the Hill Country; Blue for the sky.”

Jensen just stared at him, and then offered to buy him a Pepsi from a street vendor who was selling hot dogs and cold drinks  
.  
“What’s a Pepsi?” Jared asked, getting that look of disbelief from Jensen again.

“You don’t know what a Pepsi is?” Jensen asked with a laugh. “That’s insane.” He paid for two Pepsis and two hot dogs. Jared brought the straw of the drink to his lips and sucked the liquid into his mouth. He grinned when he tasted it, recognizing the taste even if he didn't recognize the name.

“Oh, we have this!” Jared said. “This is Brad’s!”

“Who’s Brad?” Jensen asked, apparently confused by Jared’s exclamation.

“I dunno,” Jared said. “The guy who invented it, I think. Way before my time. It’s called Brad’s Cola – used to be Brad’s Drink but I guess they thought it wasn't specific enough.”

Jensen laughed. “I thought maybe you knew the guy who invented it. Like, personally.”

Jared had to laugh at that. They found a grassy place to sit and enjoyed their food and soda quietly. As they snacked, Jared let his thoughts wander, noting the other differences he’d noticed in the short time he’d been in this world.

This Jensen was quicker to smile than the Jensen he’d known. He was more confident, too. Jared could see it in the way he walked. Jensen almost _swaggered_. It was incredibly sexy. These weren't ways that this Jensen was _better_ than his Jensen, just different.

Chris was different too. Jared had only been around this version of Chris for about forty minutes, but Jared been able to pinpoint subtle differences in him as well. This Chris seemed a little softer, and a little less crass than his counterpart in Jared’s world. Jared hadn't liked his version of Chris too much, and it was reciprocal. Chris had loved to insult his Jensen and rile him up. In Jared’s world, Jensen and Chris had met in High School; here, they’d met in college.

In Jared’s world, Chris had been a bad influence on Jensen, convincing him to blow off college and blue-collar it for the rest of his life. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but Jared always knew Jensen had been a little bitter about missing the college experience. He was glad to see this Jensen with a college education under his belt and doing something he loved. An architect – it was impressive.

Still, the differences weren't so extreme that the people in question weren't themselves. It was just, well, strange. The small things unnerved Jared more than the big things – like not knowing what Pepsi was or the change in UT’s colors. _If I do come to stay_ , he thought, _will I ever really feel like I belong here?_

 

 

 

 ***

  
The day had passed quicker than Jared would have liked, and he didn't know what to expect now that the sun had gone down. Would he sleep on the couch? Or in Jensen’s bed? Would they sleep at all, or just stay up all night talking?

Now though, Jared sat on the couch, next to Jensen. In theory they were watching television together, but Jared’s thoughts were much too preoccupied to focus on whatever sitcom was on the screen. Jared didn't recognize it. Jensen sat close enough that his thigh pressed against Jared’s. The warmth from Jensen’s body seeped through the layers of denim, and that in itself was enough to distract Jared. The last time he’d seen Jensen, _his_ Jensen, he’d been so cold, laid on a table in the hospital...

Jared slowly nursed the beer Jensen had uncapped for him. Before yesterday and the four beers he’d had with Misha, he couldn't remember the last time he’d drank. Scratch that, yes, he did. It was a few days after Jensen’s funeral and Jared had drank all the beer and liquor in the house. It wasn't that much, in the grand scheme of things, but Chad had found him the next day passed out by the toilet with vomit drying on his clothing and on the floor around him. That had not been a good day, and Chad had made him swear that he wouldn't drink alone ever again. It was a promise Jared had kept, so it seemed strange now, to be drinking again. To be drinking with _Jensen_ again. For the first time. Jared’s brow furrowed. He was pretty sure his mind was officially boggled.

Jared was distracted from his thoughts by Jensen standing up and stretching. A thrill ran through his body. Jared couldn't count how many times that had happened just today. It was like a little bolt of lightning, adrenaline perhaps, every time he looked over at Jensen and he was there, _really_ there. Warm and solid and _alive_. How could Jared go back to his own world after this? Then again, how could he leave his? His family wasn't the best, but they were still his. He’d be leaving Chad, his brother in every sense of the word that mattered.

“Are you okay, Jared? You seem a little distracted,” Jensen asked. Jared’s head jerked up and he saw Jensen standing in front of him, smiling down at him a little nervously.

“Oh, yeah, I’m great, Jensen,” Jared said, returning the smile. Jensen didn't respond verbally. Instead he leaned over and took Jared’s beer away from him, setting it on the far end of the coffee table. Jared wiped the condensation from the bottle on his jeans.

“I know you haven’t decided,” Jensen said. “And I don’t want to pressure you, but this might be my only chance to do this. So I hope it’s okay.”

Jensen didn't wait for Jared to reply before he straddled Jared, his knees on the couch on either side of Jared’s hips. Jared could feel the muscles in Jensen’s thighs flex against his as Jensen kept his balance, and Jared’s mouth dropped open in surprise – he hadn't expected _this_. Jensen’s hands cupped Jared’s face and his green eyes stared into Jared’s. His thumbs gently dragged along Jared’s jawline, rubbing over Jared’s stubble. Jared managed to stop gaping like a fish and tried to convey reassurance and permission without speaking. Tension hung in the air between them like a spider’s web, and Jared didn't want to make a wrong move. He nodded his head, barely able to breathe.

Jensen leaned down and claimed Jared’s mouth, and all of Jared’s blood rushed south. Closing his eyes, he lost himself in sensation and didn't bother trying to quiet the soft whimper that escaped. Jared’s cock started to swell, and his hips gave an aborted thrust upwards, drawing a soft grunt from Jensen. Jared hoped that Jensen wouldn't mind; wouldn't spook and pull away. Jared grasped Jensen’s shirt, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. No way was he letting Jensen get away from him now. Their mouths slid wetly together as their tongues darted out, exploring and moving against each other gently.

Jensen managed to pull away only a millimeter, only far enough to whisper, “So this is okay?” His lips still brushed against Jared’s with every word. Shivers ran down Jared’s spine at the whispered tone and even though Jared was too close to see Jensen’s mouth, he imagined he heard a smile there.

“God, Jensen,” Jared replied, his voice breathy. “It’s more than okay. Come back here.”

He reached up and hooked his hands behind Jensen’s neck, drawing him back down for another kiss. Contrary to the last one, this kiss was almost violent. This was Jared laying claim, as if the harder he kissed Jensen, the more he laid waste to Jensen’s mouth, the more legitimate his foothold in this world was. Jensen may have initiated this kiss, but Jared thoroughly owned Jensen. Jensen whimpered, and Jared pulled away in case he was hurting him.

Jensen looked a little dazed, and Jared smirked as a burst of pride flared in his chest. _He’d_ been the one to make Jensen look mussed and debauched, and only with a kiss. Jared sat up straight and brought his fingertips to the hem of Jensen’s shirt, flicking the material almost absent-mindedly.

“Can we get rid of this?” Jared asked. He slid his hands up Jensen’s shirt, exhilaration following in the wake of skin against skin. Jared felt his breath quicken as his fingers danced lightly over the indentations of Jensen’s almost-a-six-pack, and then up to the more defined cut of Jensen’s pectoral muscles, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over his nipples. Jensen’s eyelids fluttered to half-mast, and his tongued darted out to lick at his full lips, wetting them. It was too much of a temptation to resist, and Jared surged upward, pulling Jensen close again and reclaiming his mouth.

When Jensen next pulled away, it was to rid himself of his shirt in one fluid motion and then start tugging at Jared’s. Jared complied; of course he did, satisfied when Jensen sat back and let his eyes trail over Jared’s body. Jared wasn't quite as fit as he’d been before – well, _before_ , but he’d kept up semi-regular workouts at the gym provided for the apartment tenants. He was grateful for that when Jensen leaned forward to touch for himself.

“Can we – um, can we take this to the bedroom?” Jensen asked, and Jared saw the faintest tinge of pink color Jensen’s ears.

Jared couldn't find his words. Splaying one hand on Jensen’s chest, he pushed gently but firmly until Jensen backed off the couch and was standing again. Jared followed him up, pushing his thumbs under the waistline of Jensen’s jeans. Jensen looked uncertain, and Jared hoped that Jensen didn't think he was about to get rejected.

“Lead the way,” Jared said, even though he knew perfectly well where the bedroom in this apartment was. Jensen looked relieved, and he leaned forward and up to kiss Jared, chastely this time, and led him down the hallway to the bedroom. They didn't bother turning on the light.

Once inside, all bets were off as Jensen and Jared became all hands, mouths and tongues. Jared toed off his shoes and socks, and Jensen quickly divested him of his jeans, and the next thing Jared knew he was laying on the bed in just his boxers, his erection straining against the thin cotton while Jensen hovered over him, still dressed in his jeans. His belt and fly were undone, and the belt hung loosely, the metal bits jingling as if trying to provide a sort of musical accompaniment. Jensen stilled and just looked at Jared, and Jared’s fingers itched to grab Jensen and haul him closer.

“God, Jared, how is this real?” Jensen asked, his voice barely more than the breath of his exhalation.

Jared didn't have a chance to answer before Jensen started mouthing at the skin of Jared’s chest; little lightning strikes landing wherever Jensen’s mouth touched him. Jared’s back arched and he pressed his head into the pillow. It was all he could do not to thrust his hips toward Jensen; show him where he really wanted that attention focused.

Jensen started biting when he reached Jared’s abs, little teasing nips that Jared hadn't known would turn him on so much. His Jensen wasn't a biter, and it wasn't something Jared ever thought he’d like. It was a nice surprise, and then all conscious thought fled once Jensen reached Jared’s groin, mouthing wetly at the straining bulge through the fabric.

“Oh, my God, Jensen!” was Jared’s coherent and well-thought-out reaction. Jensen just chuckled darkly and reached through the slit in Jared’s boxers to gently finger Jared’s balls. Jared gave a strangled whimper as all his muscles tightened.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he groaned.

“No, not at all,” Jensen smirked before licking a firm circle around the head of Jared’s cock, tangling in the already damp material.

“Hmmm, this tastes alright, but I bet your naked cock tastes better,” Jensen teased, and Jared felt his eyes widen. _Dirty talk? From Jensen? Huh. Must come with that whole confidence thing he has going on_.

“Jensen, if you don’t get this show on the road you’re gonna make me cream my shorts,” Jared hissed, and Jensen lightly, very lightly, dragged his teeth down Jared’s frustratingly fabric-covered shaft.

“Don’t you dare,” Jensen said with authority, and that was enough of that. Jared pushed up suddenly with his hips, throwing Jensen off balance enough that Jared was able to flip him onto his back. Jensen let out a surprised little yelp.

“Now who’s in charge?” Jared rumbled and was rewarded with a wicked grin from Jensen. That grin turned into a gasp when Jared used the hand not supporting his own weight to slip into Jensen’s pants, stroking the hardness he found there.

“Are you done playing around?” Jared demanded to know. Jensen just nodded and gasped, pushing further up into Jared’s grasp. Jared took his free hand and tugged at the corner of Jensen’s jeans. “Off.”

Jensen lifted his hips and shimmied out of his jeans and underwear in what looked to be a practiced move. Jared couldn't stop his gaze from sweeping down Jensen’s body and then back up. Jared felt that thrill in his stomach again, like he’d swallowed a jar of butterflies. This was real. This was happening. Sighing, he stretched his body out beside Jensen and kissed him again, long and slow. If this was to be their only time together, Jared wanted to take his time. Make it perfect. As they kissed, Jared gently stroked Jensen, enjoying the weight of that pretty, pretty cock in his hand.

Jared felt Jensen’s hands on his waist, pushing down his boxers. Jared assisted and now, both naked, Jared pressed his hips against Jensen’s, grinding them together.  
“I- I think I was going to do something,” Jensen stuttered through his moans. “Lay back.”

It was all Jared could do to comply – to roll onto his back and pull away from such delicious friction, but he managed. No sooner had he done so when Jensen’s mouth enveloped the head of his cock, sucking and licking aggressively. Jared had to close his eyes tightly, knowing that if he looked down he’d come in a heartbeat. It had been too long; he was teetering on the edge.

“Jensen,” Jared said on an exhale. “Jensen, stop.”

Jensen did as asked. “What do you want, Jared?” The question was an offer; a gift Jared never thought he’d have again. Jensen literally crawled up Jared’s body until his lips touched Jared’s. Another lazy kiss followed; Jared tasting himself on Jensen’s tongue. Jensen dragged his lips over to Jared’s ear and spoke in a low, husky tone. “Do you want to fuck me, Jared?”

Jared’s response was a bitten-off groan and a thrust of his hips. It was apparently a good enough answer for Jensen, and he reached over to his nightstand to retrieve supplies from the small drawer located there. He pressed a small bottle of lube into Jared’s hand.

“Get me ready for you,” he said softly, and then laid back on the bed with his legs spread invitingly. “But, uh, go slowly. I haven’t done this since college.”

Jared simply nodded in response before crawling between Jensen’s legs. He pressed open the little pop-top on the lube and generously coated his fingers, dribbling a little bit of it in his palm. It quickly warmed, and Jared gave Jensen’s cock a few good strokes to keep it interested while Jared prepped him.

A bit more lube and Jared pushed one finger into Jensen. Jensen’s eyes squeezed shut and he grunted. Jared worried that he’d gone too quickly but then Jensen spread his legs even more, and Jared took that as a good sign. He slid his finger out and then back in. Jensen was warm, smooth and silky on the inside, and Jared felt himself grow harder still. He hadn't known that was possible.

“M-more, Jared, please,” Jensen gasped. Jared realized he’d been a little spellbound just from watching his finger slide in and out of Jensen. He poured more lube onto his hand and added another finger, crooking them once inside to search for Jensen’s prostate. Jensen jumped and groaned when Jared found it, moving his hips up and down, trying to get Jared deeper.

“Are you ready for me?” Jared asked after a little while, once he’d moved up to three fingers and felt so hard he was almost afraid he’d come the moment he got inside Jensen.

“Yes!” Jensen insisted. “More than ready.” Jensen’s voice was strained and rough. Jared pulled out his fingers and Jensen sat up.

“On your back, Jared,” he demanded. “I want to ride you.”

Once Jared complied, Jensen made quick work of rolling a condom onto Jared’s erection and liberally coated it with lube. Then, Jensen straddled Jared’s hips and lifted up to his knees. He grabbed Jared’s cock and positioned it behind his balls, letting the head slip along Jensen’s perineum until it caught on the rim of his entrance.

“J-Jensen,” Jared moaned. “God, Jensen, please…”

Jensen reached behind him to guide Jared into himself, sinking onto Jared’s cock with a sigh that sounded like _finally_.

Jared’s world shrunk to just himself and Jensen. Jared heard Jensen call out his name as he rode Jared hard, bracing his hands on Jared’s chest for leverage. Jared, for his part, coined a thousand new endearments with the same word: _Jensen_. Quickly, too quickly, he was close. Jensen had taken himself in hand and judging by his grunts and growls, he was close too. Jared reached out and wrapped his hand around Jensen’s, helping to stroke him to completion. Jensen’s eyes went wide, and then he was coming, shooting his release onto Jared’s belly and chest. The sight of Jensen coming undone, not to mention feeling Jensen’s muscles clench and pulsate around him as he did so, tipped Jared over the edge as well and he shouted Jensen’s name as his pleasure crested and he came.

Jensen collapsed onto Jared’s chest and they lay there like that for a long moment, both panting and catching their breath.

“God _damn_ ,” Jensen slurred, his Texas twang out in full force in his sated state. “I may never walk again.”

Jared laughed and then gasped when Jensen pulled off of his overly-sensitive, softening cock. Jared carefully removed the condom and sat up, barely able to walk to the bathroom to dispose of it. He grabbed a washcloth from Jensen’s linen closet, dampened it in the sink and brought it back to the bedroom to clean them both up. Jensen was nearly asleep and startled a little when the air-cooled cloth touched his heated skin. Jared smiled and, task completed, climbed into bed with Jensen.

“Hope you don’t mind if I don’t sleep in my pajamas,” Jared said, wrapping his long arms around Jensen and pulling him close.

Jensen mumbled something unintelligible that Jared took to mean he was okay with it, and allowed himself to drift off into slumber. As the world grew heavy around him and settled him into sleep, he felt a soft touch on his face.

“I hope you decide to stay,” Jensen whispered. “I’d really like to keep you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

 _Monday, October 28th_

  
It had been perfect, falling asleep next to Jensen. It had been even better, waking up and having him still there; sharing kisses over a simple breakfast of coffee and Honey Nut Cheerios. Jared would have been content without the sex; just walking around while Jensen showed him around his life had been enough. Just spending time with Jensen on his couch would have been enough.

But what a life it was! Everything that his Jensen had wanted for himself but had never had the motivation or the confidence to achieve, this Jensen had done. Jared had always, _always_ encouraged his Jensen though, since it was where his passion lay. That kind of felt like a betrayal too. How could the fates, if they existed, treat his Jensen so cruelly, giving him crappy job after crappy job and dreams he’d never achieve – only to have him gunned down by some dumb kid desperate for money? Jared knew life wasn't fair, but his Jensen had been dealt an even crappier hand than most.

Jensen and Jared’s morning domesticity was interrupted by Misha. As promised, he showed up at the specified time to return Jared to his home world. Jared was reluctant to go, and Jensen was reluctant to let him.

They shared at least five good-bye kisses, enough that Misha finally cleared his throat and looked at them pointedly. “I’ll be severing your link as soon as I get Jared back to his own realm.”

Both Jensen and Jared snapped to attention at that.

“What?” They asked in unison, their surprise and shock showing plainly on their faces.

“Well, it’s only right,” Misha said. “I can’t very well leave it in place. I’m giving Jared a day to make up his mind about coming back here or staying in his own world, and even that’s pushing it. Katie’s after me with a vengeance this time. Apparently I really pissed her off by ditching her at the shop.”

“But why sever the link?” asked Jensen. He looked genuinely upset about it.

“Because Jared needs to know exactly what he’ll be living with if he decides to stay,” Misha said perfunctorily. He looked a little sad. “Jensen, you have to understand that no matter what Jared chooses, he’s going to have to give something up.”

Jensen’s eyes looked suspiciously wet as he nodded. “Will that stop the dreams? Stop the memories?”

Misha cocked his head to the side, looking curiously at Jensen.

“Memories?”

“Um, yeah,” Jared said. “In the dreams – he’s been seeing some of my Jensen’s memories. How is that possible?”

“I don’t really know,” Misha admitted. “But that is absolutely fascinating. I assume it has to do with you and the other Jensen essentially being the same person. Maybe when I forged the connection to Jared I also somehow connected you to the other Jensen. I’d love to study it further sometime, if you’d allow.” At Jensen’s nervous look, Misha laughed. “No electrical probes, I promise.” He turned to Jared. “I’m sorry, Jared, but we have to go now.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jared sighed. He walked over to the couch and picked up his backpack, the only item he’d used out of it being his toothbrush. Misha held out his hand, and Jared reached out and took it.

“Wait, Misha, if Jared doesn't want to come live here,” Jensen said, and Jared could hear the unspoken with me that was tacked onto the end of that, “could – could I go live in his world?”

Misha winced. “I’m sorry, but no.”

“Why not?” Jensen sounded a little angry now.

“The Jensen everyone knew there grew into adulthood and died there. It’d be too hard to give you a new identification – and how would Jared explain it to his family? Suddenly he’s living with Jensen’s doppelganger?”

“Plus you have a life here, Jensen,” Jared interjected. “A _good_ life. I’m an unemployed accountant with one friend who happens to be my brother. You have too much to give up.”

“So I have no say in this,” Jensen said, and his eyes looked even more liquid. Jared felt his heart breaking in half.

“I’m sorry, Jensen,” Misha said sincerely. “But this has to be Jared’s choice.”

Jensen nodded and pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “Okay. I get it. Just . . . Jared?”

Jared’s eyes met Jensen’s as he walked across the room in his socked feet and pulled Jared into a final, lingering kiss.

“Whatever you decide, it’s okay with me,” Jensen said. Jared nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He felt Misha tug gently on his hand.

“Time to go,” Jared said. Jensen nodded, and Jared let Misha lead him through the doorway. Just before they passed through, Jared heard Jensen call out behind them.

“Hey Misha, you owe me a cat.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

  
Jared stood in front of the door to his apartment. It was unreal to be back here – back in his own world where his apartment was achingly empty and his Jensen was dead. Dead and buried five hours away. He waited for the usual desolation to wash over him at that thought, and while he felt his shoulders slump and his breath leave his body, it wasn't nearly as bad as it usually was. The expected panic attack didn't come. He felt a little bit like a traitor when it didn't.

Jared was brought back to the present by Misha snapping his fingers in his face. Jared blinked and then focused on Misha.

“You do remember me telling you Chad was here and flipping out a little, right?” Misha said, casually.

“He’s not at work?” Jared asked, surprised. No, of course Chad wasn't at work. That might make his decision-making time easy. Jared sighed and reached for his doorknob. Misha stopped him by resting his hand on Jared’s.

“Jared, I know this is a hard decision,” Misha said. “Trust me, I do. But I wanted to help you so badly – I couldn't bear to watch you slip away like you were. And seeing you this morning, with that light in your eyes – well, I trust you to make the right decision. You know that if I could, I’d give you your Jensen back, in a heartbeat. This is the best I can do. Think it over, and call me in twenty-four hours. I’d love to do this for you, but it’s up to you. Give me your phone.”

“What?” Jared’s head spun from the sudden change of subject.

“Give me your phone so I can program my number in it. Call me in precisely twenty-four hours with your decision. If you decide you want to stay here you won’t see me again. Well, not anytime soon at least,” Misha smiled as Jared handed over his phone. “Anyway, if you do decide to let me take you across to Jensen’s world, I’ll give you a place and a time to meet. Fill up what bags we can carry with whatever you want to take with you.”

“If I do decide to go,” Jared said, “what about my degree? The schools there will have no record of me. I won’t be able to get a job.”

“Jared, don’t worry about it, okay? I have friends all over the place. I will make sure you won’t be giving up your education if you decide to do this. They can even supply references and job history. Now please go inside before your brother calls the police and reports you missing.”

“Oh! Right,” Jared said, and took his phone back. “I’ll, uh, call you.”

“Make sure you do, Jared,” Misha instructed, his face serious. “I don’t envy you this decision.”

Jared nodded and shook Misha’s hand. It was a formal gesture, but it seemed appropriate given the circumstances. Jared steeled his resolve and pushed into his apartment. He was immediately beset upon by Chad.

“Jared! Oh, my God, Jared where the fuck have you been? I was about to call the cops! You disappeared; you weren't answering your phone! Do you have any idea how scared I was? I thought you’d – I drove down to the river looking for you. I thought you’d killed yourself!”

“Would you calm down, Chad?” Jared snapped, overwhelmed by the ranting and not thinking. “I was with Jensen.”

Jared didn't think he’d ever seen Chad so still, or so pale. The moments crawled by and Jared was pretty sure he just watched all the blood drain from Chad’s face. Jared closed the door but hovered close to it, his hand on the cool metal of the doorknob. He held his breath and waited for Chad’s reaction. When it didn't come, Jared broke the silence, if only barely.

“I’m not crazy, Chad.”

Chad approached Jared slowly, as if not to spook him. Reaching out, he clasped Jared’s wrist firmly but gently and let him to the couch. Jared sat. Chad took a deep breath.

“I know you’re not crazy, Jare,” Chad said. Jared listened closely to see if he could detect any trace of sarcasm. Instead of sarcasm, Chad just sounded tired, and a little defeated. Jared felt guilty and more than a little responsible for putting that tone in Chad’s voice. Chad pulled Jared’s coffee table (not nearly as nice as Jensen’s) away from the couch and sat on it, directly across from Jared.

“Now, please tell me where you really were, and for the love of God tell me you weren't out in the park all night.”

Jared’s lips quirked up in a semblance of a smile. “You wouldn't believe me, Chad. I barely believe it, but I was really with Jensen.”

“Jared,” Chad said sadly. He rested his elbows on his knees. “Okay, I need you to believe me when I say I don’t think you’re crazy, but I do think you need help. Have you considered talking to someone? I’m getting really worried about you. I thought you were doing better – moving on, but this past week or so you've been backsliding hard. I get that it’s been a year, and that’s got to hurt, but . . . “ Chad didn't finish the sentence, just fixed his eyes on Jared as if to convey with his eyes what he couldn't seem to find the words for. Jared knew Chad was legitimately concerned about him, but he felt a surge of irrational anger at him and lashed out.

“No Chad, I don’t need to go see anyone and I wasn't in the park all night. I was with Jensen – physically. I touched him and he touched me!”

“Jensen’s dead, Jared!” Chad stood suddenly and started to pace. He ran a hand over his short hair. “He’s dead and you need to finally accept it. You didn't spend last night with him – Jesus, are you listening to yourself? This – this is cra-”

“I thought you said you didn't think I was crazy, Chad,” Jared said with an icy tone. “You know what, I think you should leave.”

“I’m not leaving until you agree to see a psychiatrist! Christ, even Mom and Dad are worried. I-“

“You told your parents what was happening with me?”

“What was I supposed to do, Jared? You fucking disappeared! I called them to see if they’d seen you and when they heard how freaked out I was they demanded I tell them what was going on.”

“You could have lied!” Jared threw back. Chad stepped back, his arms crossed over his chest defensively.

“I might not be the best person in the world,” Chad said. “But I’m not a liar. And I’m not going to lie about something like this when I’m worried about you!”

Jared stood and threaded the fingers of both his hands through his hair and tightened his hands into fists in frustration.

“Can you please leave, Chad?” Jared asked. “Look, I’m sorry I just disappeared like that. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I _should_ go see a counselor or something. But, I’d really like to be alone for a while. Get my head on straight, you know? I’m really, really sorry for disappearing. I didn't think you’d come by.”

Chad gave Jared a dubious look. “I always come by on the weekends. Did you forget what day it was?”

Jared frowned, because he hadn't forgotten, but he had misjudged how much he’d scare Chad by disappearing like that.

“Maybe,” Jared conceded. He felt a little like an ass for lying but he really just wanted to diffuse the situation and ease Chad’s mind. Jared had a huge decision to make, and he didn't need Chad around while he made it. Chad fixed him with a look that said he knew Jared was full of shit, but he didn't call him out on it.

“Okay,” Chad said. “I’m going home. I called out of work for the week, just so you know. You and me, we’re gonna fix this, alright?”

“Yeah, alright,” Jared said wearily. “Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Chad said obstinately. “You ought to be. Anyway, you disappear on me again like that without a phone call, an email, a note – something, I will find you and kick your ass into next week. Got it?”

“Got it,” Jared said. Chad walked to the door.

“I mean it, Jared,” Chad said. “We’re gonna make things better. You need anything, you call me, okay?”

Jared nodded, touched by Chad’s concern. He’d miss Chad, if he decided to go. Chad gave Jared a rare hug and then took his leave. Jared felt a guilty rush of relief when the door closed behind him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

  
Jared spent the rest of the day pacing around his apartment. He packed his suitcase, then unpacked it, and then packed it again. Now it was lying open on the bed, halfway packed and Jared still hadn't made up his mind.

Jared paced through the living room and circled through the kitchen. He walked down the hallway, back to the kitchen and then back to the hallway. He stilled, finally, when the framed photographs on the wall caught his attention. He walked over to them and really looked at them for the first time in over a year. Jared and Jensen both looked so happy in them, so proud to be getting married even if the government wouldn't recognize it. There were a few candid shots of them from their honeymoon, where they’d flown to Hawaii and played barefoot in the sand. Jared felt tears prick his eyes. He knew he’d never have that again, but now – now he had a chance to experience love again. And that was just it. He loved this Jensen. It was ridiculous and God, had it only been a week? Not even a week? Amazing how fast the world could tip on its axis and spin out of control. He was pretty sure this Jensen loved him, too.

Jared started taking down the photos and with them stacked carefully against his chest, he walked to his bedroom and put them in a box. Even if he didn't go to this new world, it was time to take them down. As he settled them in place, he felt a tear slip from his face and run down his cheek. He didn't bother to wipe it away. It seemed appropriate. No matter what his decision, he was finally, _finally_ saying his official good-bye to his Jensen. A bit of mourning was fitting, and right.

The day passed just as slowly as the previous one had passed quickly. Jared made up his mind to go at least five hundred times, and then decided to stay another five hundred. He didn't sleep, not really. He tossed and turned in his bed, unused to the oppressive silence that the severed link brought. He’d tried to talk to Jensen a few times during the day, and felt bereft when no answer was forthcoming. So, it was a long night and when morning finally dawned Jared felt sick with indecision. Pros and cons warred in his brain and he didn't know how he’d ever make his decision.

Finally, it had been twenty three hours and forty minutes since Misha had brought him back to his own world, and Jared sat on his couch with his phone in his hand. He used his thumb to navigate the screens to pull up Misha’s contact information. Sitting there, staring at the screen on his phone, Jared knew what the right thing to do was.

He called Misha, who answered after two rings.

“Hey Jared!” Misha sounded happy to hear from him. “What’s up?”

“Hi Misha,” Jared said, taking a deep breath. “I've made my decision.”


	11. Epilogue

 

“Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart.”  
― Yann Martel, _Life of Pi_

  
**Epilogue:**  
Tuesday, October 27

  
Chad slid his key into the lock on Jared’s apartment door. Halfway in, it seemed to stick, as if it were reluctant to fit into the lock properly. Chad frowned, bit his lip and wiggled the key, chalking it up to his nerves. Jared had been so _off_ lately that Chad was growing more and more concerned with every passing day. It was as if the one year anniversary of Jensen’s death had sparked a downward spiral for Jared.

Chad didn't hold the prolonged grief against his foster brother. Jared and Jensen were soul mates – even a cynic about love like Chad could see that. He didn't know if Jared would ever move past this, but he had seemed a little happier the past few days despite the weirdness. Seriously, ghosts? _Exorcisms_? He understood that Jared was just trying to find peace for himself the best way he could, but Chad resolved to manhandle Jared into a therapist’s office - make him lay on the couch and everything. Before Jared really did go crazy.

The lock finally clicked open and Chad opened the door, slipping into the apartment like he’d done at least twice a week for the past year. He summoned up cheerfulness, even though a feeling he could only describe as ominous had churned in his gut ever since he’d gotten out of bed that morning.

“Jared! Wake up, dude. What do you want to do today?” Chad shouted.

Chad knew he was loud. He’d known it ever since he was a kid and his mother gave up on him ever learning how to use his inside voice. Still, as loud as Chad was, his voice positively boomed in the apartment today. It echoed off the walls and the apartment seemed empty, despite everything being as it always –

 _No, it’s not_ , Chad’s brain supplied as he realized just what was wrong with the place. Things were missing. Everything that made the apartment uniquely _jaredandjensen_ was gone – the photos from the walls, the little mementos scattered here and there. Oh, the furniture was still there, but the walls were empty and the place felt sterile; unlived in.

“Jared?” Chad let his fake exuberance drop and he slowly walked around the apartment, verifying with his eyes what he knew deep down – that Jared was gone.

_Gone where?_

It was a question that Chad wasn't sure he wanted the answer to. In the silence of the empty apartment Chad received his answer regardless, in the form of a piece of lined notebook paper sitting on the kitchen counter. He grabbed it, nearly upending the coffee mug that was used to weigh it down. Chad’s frantic eyes settled uneasily on Jared’s familiar scrawl.

_Chad,_

_I know you will be the one to find this letter – in fact I’m counting on that. I know you didn't believe me about Jensen, but I've gone to be with him. Don’t worry, this isn't a suicide note or anything drastic like that, but I don’t think I’ll see you again in this lifetime. Thank you for everything, seriously. I couldn't have gotten through the past year without you – I need you to believe that. Anyway the point of this letter isn't to get all sappy with you – more it’s to let you know that everything left in this apartment is yours now, if you want it. I won’t need it where I’m going. Sell it or use it to replace your crappy furniture, whatever you want to do is fine. I've closed all my bank accounts and don’t worry – there won’t be any creditors coming after you or anything like that._

_I’ll miss you._

_Love, your brother,_   
_Jared_

Chad didn't cry. Not even a little bit. That certainly wasn't a tear welling up in his eye and the back of his hand removed any evidence to the contrary. He folded up the letter and put it in his jacket pocket. “Good luck, Jared. I hope you’re happy wherever you end up,” he said to the air, as if Jared could hear him. He turned to leave the apartment – he’d come back in a few hours or a few days when he’d had time to process the reality of Jared being gone. Chad wasn't crazy, but as he stepped toward the door he swore he heard Jared say, “Thanks, Chad. You too.”

 

 

 

 

 

  
_-END-_

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to all the fic writers out there whose work is infinitely better than mine – for inspiring me to stop lurking and make comments, and finally to try my hand at writing one of my own. I figured if I was going to do it I may as well do it big and so I went ahead and signed up for the Big Bang.
> 
> Thank you to apieceofcake, for the gorgeous artwork she created to go along with this. It’s simply stunning and I couldn’t ask for better!
> 
> Thank you to my lovely betas bumblebat79 and konekokittie – your feedback and support made this a better story.
> 
> Thanks to the mods of spn_j2_bigbang for running such an awesome challenge – I’ve found some amazing stories in the archives and when it rolled around this year I decided to just jump right in feet first and damn the consequences.
> 
> Last but not least, thanks to everyone over at omgspnbigbang for the writing challenges and words of encouragement during the writing process. You are awesome!


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